The Outcasts
by Lukeprism
Summary: Lucas' is a rather dreary existence that's only expanded upon at school. He's got two good friends to help him through it, but they can only do so much. It's not until a new boy arrives at TCHS that Lucas begins to see the bright side. NintenxLucas, HSAU. Indefinite hiatus.
1. The New Kid

_**A/N: Random fic idea that I actually completed the first chapter of! Yaay. It's about school and stuff. How fitting, seeing as how I go back tomorrow. The title is horrible. Sorry. I couldn't think of much else.**_

STUFF TO KEEP IN MIND: There's gonna be bullying. There's gonna be homophobia and homosexual relationships. There's gonna be family issues. There's gonna be swearing. If none of this bothers you, then welcome to the fic! Glad I can have you.

DISCLAIMER: If I owned this, why would I be writing fanfiction? Silly geese.

—**s—t—a—r—t—f—i—c—t—i —o—n—**

Lucas glanced up at the school's sign as he walked past it and neared the doors. _Tazmily Community High School._ The campus was rather empty, but this was because it was 6:45 in the morning, fifteen minutes before the buses would pull into the lot flanking the school on its right side. Coming so early was a necessity, so he could avoid those he was extremely wary of, those who threatened his well-being.

Usually students weren't allowed in the building until seven o'clock, but Lucas had long ago discovered a gap in the fencing just to the right of the cafeteria, which was in turn the first building one encountered upon arrival to the school. He slipped through and set about finding his little spot, where he could relax without having to suffer the grotesque looks and the fervent whispers. On the other side of the cafeteria was a little recluse, where no one ever went, save for him and his two friends, of course. He slid the strap of his bag off his shoulder and sat down in the grass, carefully sitting on his black jacket so his khaki pants wouldn't become stained.

As he waited for the school day to inevitably start, he smiled to himself a smile devoid of any joy or humor. _And so another school year begins_, he thought grimly. _At least it can't be any worse than last year. _Though he had a strange feeling he'd jinxed himself with that thought. Sighing, he pulled a book out of his bag and flipped it open to where his bookmark saved his page. One of the things he enjoyed the most was reading. Books fascinated him; they could take him away to the wildest places, make him cry or shout out in triumph along with the main character. It was almost magical.

He became so absorbed in his novel that he didn't hear the loud squeal of the numerous bus' breaks behind him or the steadily increasing buzzing of conversation from all the other kids as they filtered into the school, making their ways to their respective before school spots to wait for the bell to ring at 7:25. And he didn't notice the two approaching sets of feet until they stood less than a meter away.

A voice pulled him back to reality. "Hey, man!"

The blonde looked up to see his best friend, Fuel, looking down at him with a stupid grin on his face. He wore the same uniform he did; a short-sleeve collared black shirt and khaki pants with regulation black loafers. The only thing different was their belts: Fuel's was black while Lucas' was brown. The taller boy's short brown hair was slightly spiked up, though no where near as frivolous as the blonde's ice cream cone-esque hair. "What's up?"

Lucas smiled back at him, closing his book momentarily. "Good morning, Fuel, Kumatora," he nodded his head at the brunette and his accompaniment, who was also a good friend of Lucas'.

Kumatora stood with a hand on her hips and a fierce, confident smile on her face. She wore the female version of the uniform; a black collared shirt and a khaki skirt that ordinarily came down to just above her knees. She had rolled the band of the skirt up, however, so that it was much shorter, only covering her up with a couple of inches to spare. Her shirt was also only half-tucked, and she lacked a belt. Her short pink hair (Lucas had no idea how the administrators let her get away with that) was sticking out in various places, but it looked better today than it normally did. "Howdy," she said.

The two plopped down on either side of him, not caring about potential pant or skirt stains. Kumatora leaned toward him, raising an eyebrow and looking at the toke he held in his hands. "So what are you reading this time?" she asked, unable to see since Lucas held the book face down.

The blonde glanced at it himself. "Oh, nothing special. Just Frankenstein."

Fuel grimaced. "Didn't we have to read that as a summer assignment or something? I didn't do it."

Kumatora looked at him. "We had a summer assignment?"

Lucas chuckled. "Yes, Kuma. I didn't do it either, but the book seemed rather interesting," he said, opening the book once more to continue from where he'd left off.

Fuel gasped. "What? Lucas, not doing his homework? My goodness, what has happened to you? Who are you and what have you done to my scholarly friend?" he exaggerated his point very dramatically, eliciting a snort from Kumatora.

Lucas sighed. "Oh, shut it. I didn't have time."

"You had all summer!"

"I didn't have _time_."

"Lucas, that's the lamest excuse ever."

"Fuel. I didn't have _time_."

"Dude, I heard you the first—" the brunette dumbly blundered on until Kumatora reached around Lucas and smacked him on the head. Fuel flinched and glared at her accusingly, but stopped when he saw Lucas' expression. His eyes widened with realization. "Oh. _Oh_. Shit, Luke, I'm sorry," he said, looking back down at his lap. "You know, you could've come to me."

Lucas shook his head. "I'm not going to throw my problems onto you. It's okay, I've got it covered now," he reassured his friend, his frown returning. "It's a tad late, though."

"Better late than never," Kumatora remarked, leaning back into the wall they sat by with arms crossed just below her breasts.

After that they sat in silence for a while, Lucas reading, Fuel dozing and Kumatora examining her nails to an extent. The trio was comfortable with silence. Unlike so many of their peers, conversation was not required to know that they were true friends. Just the company of the others was enough for them. Fuel and Kumatora were also outcasts in their own right, but to a lesser extent. Kumatora shared one of his own freaky not-so-secrets, and also had family issues. Her parental guardian was a transvestite, and there were a lot of people who found that disgusting and shunned her, who had no control over something like that, in response. Fuel's only fault was being Lucas' friend. That was a one-way ticket to shun-dom in this school. He didn't mind in the slightest; he was one of the few people who could think for himself and form opinions of his own and simply _not care_ about what others thought. Kumatora was like that, too, but it was Lucas' greatest enemy. Though he disliked the entire student body, he desperately wanted to fit in like everyone else. Unfortunately, after the events of last year's first week of school, that would never happen.

Lucas suddenly closed his book and stood up, grabbing a few coins from his pocket. "I'm going to get something to drink," he explained to the two curious faces below him. "Either of you want anything?"

"Get me a soda," Fuel grinned, leaning back once more.

Kumatora shook her head. "Nah, I'm good."

"Right. Be back in a minute," he said before walking off, back around to the more common area where everyone else crowded while waiting for the day to officially start. Unfortunately, the only vending machine was in front of the school, outside the gates, meaning he'd have to pass peers on his way. He scurried to his destination, convinced that if he didn't notice them, they wouldn't notice him. Thankfully, he went by without any sort of confrontation and found himself standing in front of the vending machine. Putting in two dollars' worth of quarters, he selected a Coke and a bottle of water for himself. The two clangs signaled his refreshments in the bottom chamber and he picked them out, shivering slightly at how cold they were. Holding one in each hand, he hurried back to where he'd come, determined to to be seen if he could help it—

And before he could wrap his mind around what was happening, Lucas was sprawled out on the ground, his water having stayed in his hand but the Coke having fallen to the ground, exploding on him as a result. He coughed and rolled away from the busted can, sticky soda now splattered on his left side. The blonde mentally groaned. Now what would he do? His head stung from hitting the ground like it had, but other than that he was okay. He wondered irritatedly who could've knocked him over.

To answer this question, all he had to do was open his eyes. He was a bit startled to see concerned brown eyes so close to his face. "Are you okay?" The boy above him quickly offered a hand to help him up. Lucas took it, standing with little difficulty.

The boy in front of him was only about an inch taller than himself, and he wore the same uniform he did. However, Lucas was more interested in his face. He had brown eyes and a small nose, almost doll-like in nature. His eyebrows were pulled into a worried position and his mouth was of average size and frowning. He had jet black hair framing his face shaggily, pieces sticking out here and there and adding to his boyish charm. He really was quite attractive, if Lucas said so himself. His head was topped by a red and blue baseball cap. He bowed to him a little bit, startling Lucas. "Gah! I'm so sorry!" he said, with the slightest hint of an accent. "I wasn't watching where I was going! You got soda all over you..." he observed, looking him up and down. "But I can make it up to you, I promise."

Lucas attempted to get out of it. There were people staring now, and that was something he didn't need. "No, really, it's fine, it was an accident..."

But the dark-haired boy gave him no room to disagree, grabbing him by the wrist and taking him back to the vending machine. He inserted four quarters and pressed a few button, and out came another Coke. He took it and stared at it for a moment before presenting it to Lucas ceremoniously. "Here," he said, and Lucas gingerly took it. "I know it's a pretty shitty way of saying sorry, but it's all I can do, y'know?" he half-apologized again, a small smile on his face. "Really sorry...ah..." he trailed off.

It took Lucas a moment to realize that he was trying to ask his name. "Lucas," the blonde inserted his name for him.

The boy smiled wider now. "Right. Sorry, Lucas. My name's Ninten," he replied, holding his hand out to shake the shorter boy's, but when he realized Lucas couldn't because his hands were occupied, he laughed sheepishly and brought the same hand to rub the back of his neck. "I'm new around here. Nice to meet you?"

Lucas couldn't help but to chuckle in spite of his stickiness. "Mhmm, nice to meet you too." Someone new, who had no bias against him. But he definitely would before the school day was over, so he'd have to enjoy this while it lasted.

As if proving him right, a sudden shove sent Lucas a few feet to the side, nearly falling down again. Turning to face his assailant, his face paled when he discovered it was Nichol, one of his regular bullies. The brown-haired oaf snickered at him, flanked by his cronies Rob and Alex. "Well if it isn't the one-man freakshow trying to corrupt a new kid. Get lost, fag," he stepped toward Lucas in an attempt to intimidate him.

It worked, and Lucas didn't need to be told twice. He gave Ninten a fleeting glance before he bolted, leaving the dark-haired boy behind, a shocked and rather confused expression on his face, with his enemies. It didn't matter, though; everyone was safe from Nichol's wrath except Lucas and his two friends. He was sure Ninten would soon become one of the masses, giving him contemptuous looks and talking bad about him behind his back.

He didn't stop running until he reached the safety of Fuel and Kumatora once more, panting slightly and already in a foul mood for the day to come.

The two looked up at him and almost immediately gasped. "Dude, what happened to you?" Fuel asked, though he already had his own guess as to the perpetrator.

Lucas just shook his head, dropping the can to the brunette and seating himself once more. "Nothing much. A new kid bumped into me, the Coke exploded, he bought me a new one, Nichol jumped in and ruined the conversation."

Kumatora clenched her fists. "That bastard," she remarked, and one could see that she had half a mind to go punch the guy in the face.

"Hey Kuma, we should corner him after school and give him a good ass-whooping," Fuel suggested with an evil smirk.

Kumatora laughed. "Sounds like a plan," she responded, her voice dangerously serious.

Lucas shook his head, putting his book back in his bag and closing it. "Guys, just forget it. He isn't worth it."

Fuel crossed his arms. "But you are."

Lucas had to fight back a chuckle. "It's my fight, not yours." A fight that he'd never be able to win.

Before Fuel could come back with a retort of his own, the bells all around the campus rang, and suddenly people were up and about all at once, walking to and fro. The trio hesitated a moment before standing up, Lucas picking his jacket up and slipping it on. As hot as it was going to be that day, it covered up the majority of his Coke stains well. He slipped his bag's strap back on his shoulder.

"You have Mr. Hale too, Kuma?" Fuel asked her.

"Yeah, do you?"

"Nah, I got Mrs. Bell. You and Lucas'll be together, though," he said, grinning. "Gotta split here, her room's on the other side of campus. See you two at lunch."

The pinkette and shorter boy both said their goodbyes and continued straight down the outdoor hallway. Lucas couldn't help but let out a sigh. He had a feeling that this year was going to be a rather weird one, but he desperately hoped it was weird in a good kind of way. At least he'd have Kumatora in his homeroom this time around.

They slipped inside the designated classroom right before the tardy bell rang.

—**e—n—d—c—h—a—p—t—e—r—**

_**A/N: Not much to say here, except that I don't actually know what color Ninten's eyes are. I just guessed brown. And I don't think Nichol's a bad guy, but I needed a male to be an antagonist, and I don't like making OCs if they're not needed. xD**_

So, what do you think so far? Leave me a review telling me whatcha liked, didn't like, things I can improve upon, etc. etc.

Farewell! C:


	2. Lucas' First Day

_**DISCLAIMER: Nope.**_

—**s—t—a—r—t—****c****—****h****—****a****—****p****—****t—e****—****r****—**

The bell ringing as soon as the door was shut, the duo scanned the room for empty seats. Fortunately enough, there were two adjacent to one another on the far right of the room, so it was there they sat. The teacher stood in the front of the room, staring at them for a moment as if deciding whether to chide them or not, and apparently deciding against it. He scanned the room with critical eyes as pinkette and blonde took their seats.

"Good morning, class," he said airily. "My name is Michael Hale, but you all may call me Mr. Hale." He shuffled the papers in his hands. "Welcome to homeroom. I'm going to call out your names in alphabetical order, and you're going to come up and get your schedule for this first half of the year. Easy enough, right? Let's get to it."

And so the monotony of name calling began. Lucas had half a mind to pull out his book, but he didn't want to get absorbed and miss his call. It'd be a bad way to get off with a new teacher. Besides, he couldn't wait to see what classes he'd ended up with. Hopefully he'd gotten into that AP World History class.

It didn't take very long for his name to come up on the roll. "Lucas Itoi?" Mr. Hale said, looking up to see the blonde step up and away from his desk, nearing him. The man separated a couple of papers and handed them to him when he came close enough, and the boy turned back around to walk back to his desk. The room was silent, all eyes trained on him. Most stares were outlandish or strange, but there was one gaze that stood out to him from the rest. Warm brown eyes focused on him and caught his attention with little effort. It was Ninten, the boy he'd met not twenty minutes earlier. When their eyes met, he smiled at him, shocking the blonde. He did his best to return the expression and hurried back to his seat.

Lucas stared at the back of Ninten's head of black hair curiously. Surely he'd been informed of the blonde's reputation? His had been the only smile in the room, aside from Kumatora's. Maybe Nichol hadn't told him yet, for whatever reason. Speaking of that barbaric oaf, he was seated next to the dark-haired boy, his frame hunched over the desk in a decent attempt at looking menacing. This made Lucas frown. He made it a priority to stay as far away from Nichol as humanly possible, but now they were stuck in the same homeroom? _Absolutely perfect_, he thought sarcastically.

But he shook his head as further names were called, glancing at the papers given to him by the teacher. The first was a newsletter—useless. He put that paper aside and looked at the infinitely more important sheet, his schedule. First period was English, second was Chemistry, third was Phys. Ed., fourth was AP World History, fifth came his lunch period, sixth was Algebra II and seventh was Art 2D. It looked fine to him, but he hoped that he had at least a couple of classes with Fuel, and/or Kumatora.

That thought having come just in time, Mr. Hale called out yet again. "Kumatora Osohe?" The addressed pinkette stood and made her way to the desk, receiving her papers and sitting back down once more. She motioned for Lucas to give her his schedule, and he obliged.

"Ninten Podunk?" This name caused the boy to look up, just in time to watch Ninten walk cooly up to Mr. Hale's desk and take his papers with a low utterance of thanks. Lucas' brow furrowed. Podunk? What an odd surname. Of course, he had no room to talk; Itoi wasn't exactly commonplace either. On the way back to his own desk, the dark-haired boy met his stare and flashed him another smile, again disorienting the blonde. _Damn_, that was a nice smile. And just like that it was gone again, Ninten now sitting in his seat and looking at his own schedule.

Kumatora turned back to him, handing his schedule back. "Looks like we've got English, lunch and Algebra II together," she whispered to him, turning to face the right way again.

Lucas tore his gaze away from Ninten. "Awesome," he breathed in reply.

Only a few more names were called. Once that was taken care of, Mr. Hale sat upright once more and cleared his throat to silence the scattered conversation that had threatened to start. "Just a couple of announcements. The boy's bathroom in the 500 hall is out of order and will be for about a week, so don't count on going there. There might be a shortage of food during fifth lunch for the first couple days due to a miscalculation in the roster. And finally, you'll be able to rent lockers starting tomorrow for two bucks a pop," he said, barely pausing between sentences in an attempt to get it all out before the end of homeroom.

He finished just in time, as the bell rang just as he took another breath. Everyone stood and shuffled out the door, many referring back to their schedule for room numbers and teacher names. Lucas watched almost regrettably as Ninten exited the room with Nichol, the latter chattering away loudly as they walked. Someone with a clean slate, someone who didn't know about him yet, taken away before he could even try to become acquaintances with him. It was a shame, really.

Kumatora nudged him forward when they were the last ones left in the room. "C'mon, Lucas, we'll be late to English," she chided him. Though she didn't strive toward academic success, she refused to be tardy to a class. She claimed it was only polite. Lucas just nodded, following her out.

Luckily, their English class was only a few doors down the outdoor hallway, room 215. Stepping inside, the two were greeted by the sight of a rather chunky lady in her thirties with long stringy brown hair. She sat at her desk and writing on her papers with fervor, like it was something she needed done really quickly. The two took seats next to each other in the second to farthest back row, each examining their classmates. There didn't seem to be anyone Lucas was particularly wary of, so that was good.

A few minutes later, the bell rang once again, and the heavyset lady suddenly stood and sauntered up to the front of the class. She seemed to look down at everyone, her beady eyes scanning the room thoroughly, giving everyone a size-up.

"Good morning," she managed to say at length. Her voice was a little higher than expected. "Welcome to English II Honors. My name is Mrs. Opala, and it's quite a pleasure to meet all of you." She said this quite frankly, insinuating that she really felt the opposite. "Now, let's just get down to business first. Who here didn't do their summer assignment?"

Everyone looked about the classroom, all wondering whether they should admit to it. Lucas decided to take initiative and raised his hand slowly, his being the first in the air. Kumatora followed his lead, and then another girl did the same. Soon about two-thirds of the class had their hands raised, none having done the work.

Mrs. Opala put a hand to her forehead. "Well, ain't that just a great start to your school year? Zeroes for all of you that didn't do it, counts as a test grade." Indignant moans and cries of protest followed, and Opala shook her head fiercely. "Absolutely not! Don't you _dare_ complain to me about fairness. You had seventy-four days to complete that assignment, which consisted of nothing more than a thorough description of characterization slapped onto a poster with pretty pictures! There is nothing difficult about that!"

Even though he'd just been branded with a big fat zero on his very first day of sophomore year, Lucas couldn't help but like this teacher. She didn't do bullshit, she said it like it was. Kumatora seemed rather impressed with her too, as she said nothing but regarded her with an odd expression.

The woman recomposed herself. "Now. Those of you who did do the work, make a pile of posters on this desk," she paused, slapping the top of a table behind her, "while I take role."

The duration of the class was normal after that. After role call, she handed out a class syllabus and went over it, making sure everyone understood everything. Then she began to ramble, telling stories about her family and social life. Rambly teachers usually disinterested Lucas, but Opala was an exception. She was funny in a very dry, sarcastic sort of way. The blonde knew he would work very hard in her class now, if only to make up for the giant goose egg he'd received.

After that, Lucas and Kumatora parted ways. Climbing up the stairs of the opposite side of the outdoor hallway, room number 331 was his Chemisty class. He chose a seat at the back of the class, waiting for everyone to show up so he'd have an idea as to how much of a chore this class would be when a certain brunette walked into the room. Lucas beamed at his grinning friend as he took a seat next to him and they examined each other's schedules.

"Looks like we've got this class, lunch, and Algebra II together!" Fuel noted as he scanned the shorter boy's paper. "Sweet."

Lucas nodded in agreement. "And I think Kuma has Algebra II sixth, too, so we'll all be together there and at lunch," he added.

Fuel laughed. "Double score!"

The bell rang not long after that, and the students settled down enough to listen to their teacher. She had mousey brown hair and was short, but skinny and looked to be in her late twenties. Dubbing herself as Mrs. Richardson, she went over the various supplies that would he needed for class, handed out a syllabus and textbooks, and had the class take a small pre-quiz to see what (if anything) they already knew about the subject. Lucas decided he liked her well enough, even if she seemed like a total pushover. Fuel did nothing but ogle her the entire class. She was fairly attractive, yes, but not that much so, in Lucas' humble opinion.

He had Phys. Ed. after that. The class itself didn't seem too bad, but the coach seemed like a dick, barking at everyone and answering completely relevant and serious questions sarcastically, practically sneering at them all. He was probably some crotchety old washed-up football player, jealous of their collective youth. Lucas wasn't anywhere near the best athlete, either, so he foresaw that class being his worst for the year.

Next came AP World History. Mrs. Glover was a nice woman, though she could be hard when she needed to be, he could tell. She handed them textbooks and another syllabus, suggesting several review books that would help out in the long run. Lucas scrawled some of the brands down for a later date. She showed them a quick PowerPoint presentation that overviewed the class' curriculum, and Lucas knew that he would enjoy this class the most. He loved history with a strange passion.

Lunch was...well, lunch. He sat in his usual spot, on the empty side of the cafeteria with Fuel and Kumatora, eating nothing and drinking a simple bottle of water. They talked about their classes, complaining and bragging about boring or interesting/attractive teachers, respectively. Lucas laughed alongside them; he hadn't felt this content since last year, really. They hadn't seen each other during the summer break.

The trio advanced to their shared Algebra II class. Their teacher was a bit strange; he had a serious demeanor about him, and yet he cracked jokes every five minutes. They were so unfunny that they somehow were, and Lucas couldn't help but laugh along with most everyone else. Mr. Watkins' bespectacled round face seemed pleased at being so well accepted by the students, though he did assign homework out of the textbooks he gave out. He, Kumatora and Fuel decided to work on it together the next morning and lunch.

And finally came the last class of the day: Art 2D. Lucas stepped into the classroom and took a look around the sparsely populated room. The desks were large, fitting four people at each one. No one in particular jumped out at him, at least until his gaze reached the front of the room and a rather familiar dark head of hair and baseball cap. Ninten sat in one of the front desks, accompanied by another boy who looked indifferent. Nichol nor his buddies were anywhere to be found. He currently faced away from Lucas, so he didn't notice him. Lucas had the sudden urge to walk up and sit down next to him, to see what he would do. But he didn't want to be disappointed by the incredulous stare he was no doubt going to get, so he sat in the back, at a table all by himself.

Mrs. Oliveri was a nice enough teacher. She was very eccentric, talking very animatedly and donning a wildly colorful dress and abundant necklaces and rings. Her bright red hair was almost distracting. She went on about the wonders of art and everything they'd be learning that semester, but Lucas didn't hear a word of it. Her voice was just so...nasally and obnoxious that he automatically tuned it out.

When she took role, he nearly didn't say "here" when his name was called because of this. When he had, though, a fair few eyes swiveled around to look at him, Ninten's among them. He looked at him for a minute before smiling and turning back around. _Still smiling?_ Lucas could hardly believe it.

The rest of the class was basically just him staring at Ninten's back the whole time while their teacher droned on. He was suddenly fascinated by the other; he hadn't been acted toward in a friendly manner by another peer other than Fuel and Kumatora in quite some time. Once, Ninten had taken another look back at him, and their gazes locked, Lucas having been caught redhanded. The blonde quickly averted his sights, face coloring slightly. He dared a glance back at him after a few seconds, but he'd already turned back around.

The end of school bell was more than welcome to the blonde. He was the first one out the door, racing toward the bus ramps with alarming speed. Once there, he took a spot out of the beaten path and waited like he did everyday, until two familiar faces came up to greet him.

"Hey, Lucas! How'd that art class go?" Fuel waved as he walked up, Kumatora not far behind him.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Normal, I guess. My teacher's a nut, though."

Kumatora snorted. "Yeah, I've heard Mrs. Oliveri's kinda weird. Culinary sounds like it might actually be fun."

"You guys get to eat the food you make, right? Of course it's gonna be sweet!" Fuel exclaimed. "My drama class teacher is freaking hilarious. It's gonna be a cool class, I can tell."

"That's cool," Lucas chuckled at his friend's sureness.

Conversation like this lasted until the buses turned their engines on, signaling that it was time to board the buses unless you wanted to be left behind. Lucas didn't ride the bus, but Fuel and Kunatora lived in the same apartment complex and thus rode the same yellow vehicle to and from campus.

"See you tomorrow, man," Fuel waved as they ran to their bus. Lucas raised his arm to wave back, suddenly aware of how sweaty and sticky it was from the stupid jacket and heat. Making a face, he pocketed his hands and began to walk toward the sidewalk leading away from the school and to the southern part of town, on the outskirts of which he resided.

He contemplated his day thus far. For a first day back, it definitely wasn't bad. Save for the little incident at school that morning, nothing particularly dreadful had happened. _Though that could always change_, he thought as he headed home. He hoped that all was well back at the house; just this one day, he wanted everything to end up alright.

As the buses drove past him on the street, he decided that he couldn't wait to shower upon his arrival home.

—**e—n—d—c—h—a—p—t—e—r—**

_**A/N: Here's one more chapter before I go to sleep and get ready to start my own school year. xD**_

So what do you think so far? Awesome? Horrible? Leave a review telling me whatcha liked, didn't like, things I can improve on, etc. etc.

See you on the flipside~. C:


	3. Ninten's First Day

_**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, you lot! It means a bunch! :D I present you with the third installment of my humble little fic, from Ninten's PoV.**_

DISCLAIMER: Sorry. I'm afraid I don't own anything.

—**s—t—a—r—t—c**—**h**—**a**—**p**—**t—e**—**r**—

Black loafers slapped against the ground as Ninten raced his way along the sidewalk, darting to and fro in the general direction of his new school. A small pack on his back bounced around wildly as he sped forward, held on by two measly straps that looked fit to break at any moment. He barely looked both ways as he ran across the street, paying more attention to the street sign. _Pollyana Drive? Okay, it should be down the next turn,_ he thought as he sprinted, legs and arms pumping back and forth rapidly.

Taking a quick glance over at the next street, he could see he was right. The tall sign couldn't be missed; Tazmily Community High School. Crossing to the other side of the street, he abruptly halted his movement, heart pounding and lungs burning to the point where he had to bend forward slightly and hold his chest as he struggled to regain his composure. He probably shouldn't have sprinted all the way from his house to school with his pretty serious asthma problem, but he would have been late if he hadn't: his alarm clock had gone off a whopping twenty minutes late.

Going upright again, the dark haired boy's chocolate brown eyes shifted down to his right wrist, checking the time. 7:19. Damn. A trip that would normally have taken him twenty minutes had taken him five. He decided he could afford to jog slightly from there to the building, seeing as it was only a n eighth of a mile away at most.

As he came up to the main gates, he was impressed by how many people he saw. He thought Tazmily was supposed to he a small town, but there had to be at least seven hundred kids there, probably even more. Then the building to his right caught his interest; the cafeteria, its plaque provided. That was a big building too. Maybe it had more than a cafeteria in it, like a couple classrooms on the other side?

Before he could finish his thoughts, though, he suddenly bowled someone over with his lack of forward attention, stumbling over this someone to land on his side bluntly. His hat almost fell off his head of shaggy black hair, and he winced at his arm's contact with the ground, but it was nothing serious. Ninten scrambled up and turned, wondering who in the world he'd just plowed into.

There was a Coke can spewing next to the kid, who had rolled away from it onto his bottom, but he was still splattered with the sticky brown substance all over on his black uniform shirt. He held his head with one of his hands, wincing, and a bottle of water in the other. Ninten wanted to kick himself. What a great way to introduce himself. "Are you okay?" he asked quickly, thrusting a hand toward him in an effort to help him up. The boy opened his eyes and looked up at him, taking his hand after a moment's thought.

He was barely on his feet again before Ninten sized him up. The other boy was slightly shorter than him, and wore the same uniform all the guys did. His light blonde hair was flipped up in the front, reminding Ninten of an ice cream cone. His shoulders weren't very broad and he had thin arms and small hands, looking like not much more than a toothpick. But what really caught his attention were his eyes. They were a stunning shade of blue, looking almost naive and innocent on the outside, though Ninten could make out uncertainties beneath these things. He was quite adorable; he reminded Ninten of a kid. His expression was neutral, and his eyebrows raised.

Ninten quickly performed a mini-bow. "Gah! I'm so sorry!" he proclaimed, hearing the boy in front of him make an almost inaudible sound of surprise. "I wasn't watching where I was going! You got soda all over you..." Upon closer inspection, the Coke seemed to be only on his upper half for the most part. Even so, it was primarily Ninten's fault, so he figured the least he could do was... "But I can make it up to you, I promise."

The blonde suddenly looked uncomfortable, his gaze past him and darting here and there. It was clear that he was wary of the onlookers that currently stared at them. "No, really, it's fine, it was just an accident..." he replied, his voice a bit higher and softer than Ninten had expected.

But Ninten would not be put off. He grabbed the blonde's wrist and pulled him toward the vending machine he'd just spotted with gusto, ignoring the slight, protest-ish little squeak the boy emitted. Stuffing his other hand into his pocket, he took out four quarters and purchased another Coke to replace the one that had exploded. Grabbing it from the small reservoir at the bottom of the machine, he held it out to the other, who looked at it almost suspiciously before he smiled a small smile at him and accepted it slowly.

Ugh. That was cute.

Ninten looked down slightly. "I know it's a pretty shitty way of making it up to you, but it's all I can do, y'know?" he looked back up now, grinning a bit. "Really sorry...ah..." he trailed off here, hoping the other would pick up on what he was hinting at.

Luckily the blonde seemed to be bright enough to figure it out. "Lucas," he answered for him.

Ninten smiled. The name seemed to fit him. "Right. Sorry, Lucas. My name's Ninten." He reached out to shake the other's hand, but stopped when he realized Lucas' hands were full and he couldn't return the gesture, opting to laugh and rub the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'm new here. Nice to meet you?"

Lucas smiled back at him. "Mhmm, nice to meet you."

And instantly, a rather big brunette shoved into Lucas from the side, sending the poor boy stumbling over a few feet and nearly dropping his Coke again in the process. This shocked Ninten considerably. The tension was palpable when their eyes met, Lucas' face paling considerably. There were two other boys laughing behind the brunette, encouraging his barbaric behavior. The main guy sneered. "Well if it isn't our resident one-man freakshow?" he stepped forward, throwing his hands out to intimidate his target. "Get lost, fag."

Lucas wasted no time in complying. With a momentary glance back at Ninten with an unreadable expression, he was gone, racing away as fast as he could.

Then the brunette turned to Ninten, all traces of bully mode gone from his features. "So you're new. Welcome to TCHS. I'm Nichol, and this is Rob," he pointed to the redhead behind him, "and Alex," referring to the other, faux-hawked guy. "You should stay away from that guy. He's bad news. Anyway, why don't we show you around?" Nichol smiled at him. Ninten was utterly confused. He had gone from threatening to fuck someone up to a normal, helpful teenage boy in less than ten seconds.

And he called Lucas 'bad news'. From the brief encounter he'd just shared, the blonde had seemed like far from it. However, Ninten decided to play along with this Nichol guy, if only to get information out of him. He appeared good-natured enough at the moment. "Uh, yeah. Sure. Thanks. My name's Ninten."

They began to walk along. "Ninten, huh?" Nichol said, testing the name out on his tongue. "Unusual, but it fits you somehow."

Ninten gave him a small utterance of thanks.

One of the people behind them spoke up now. "So where are you from? You have an accent."

Ninten shrugged. "I'm from across the sea, from the mainland."

A chorus of 'oh's followed. "When did you move here?" asked another, different voice.

"About two weeks ago."

"No kidding? Cool."

They walked for a little ways more, Nichol pointing out buildings and areas of interest or importance, and even gave him tips on different things like snagging lunch entrees before they ran out and buttering the secretary up to get out of a tardy to school. He really was a nice guy, Ninten decided. The dark-haired boy just wondered what it was about that Lucas kid that pissed him off so much.

The bell rang about then, and everyone around them instantly began moving about to their own destinations. Nichol continued to walk down the hall while his two buddies said quick goodbyes and sauntered off, so Ninten decided to follow him.

"So what homeroom did you get?" Nichol broke into his thoughts with a casual question.

Ninten glanced at the palm of his left hand, where he had hastily scrawled a three-digit number in black ink for future reference. "Uh, 211."

"Really? Huh, we've got the same one then. I'll lead you there."

"Alright, thanks." Through the masses of students, Ninten looked at the rooms throughout the outdoor hallway, and noticed that the ones on the left were three hundreds while the ones on the right were two hundreds. Though he probably would have found his way to the room regardless, Ninten was grateful for his selective hospitality.

He stepped into the correct room after Nichol, surveying his surroundings. The room was pretty plain-looking, with only one or two english posters on the walls, which were a bland tan color. A couple of students already sat in their seats, while at the front of the room a man in his mid-forties sat at a bigger desk, shuffling some papers around. "Welcome, welcome, take a seat wherever you like," he said, not bothering to look up at the incoming children.

Ninten followed Nichol to the front of the room, sitting next to him. He hoped he didn't come off as too clingy, but the brunette didn't seem to mind. He relaxed back into his chair and closed his eyes, yawning. _He must not have gotten much sleep last night,_ Ninten observed idly.

Once everyone was inside and seated as the bell rang, the teacher stood up and took a proper look at everyone, eyes drifting about the group of twenty-five in front of him. Papers in hand, he addressed them all casually. "Alright then, class. Good morning. My name is Michael Hale, but of course you'll call me Mr. Hale. Welcome to homeroom. I'm going to call out your names in alphabetical order, and you're going to come up and get your schedule for this first half of the year. Easy enough, right? Let's get to it."

He proceeded in doing just that. The first few names were plain and usual: Jane Bear, Sydney Clark, Charlie Ferguson, Austin Hadden. Each person went up to collect their papers in the midst of the slight buzz of conversation around them and sat back down easily, with no qualms. Ninten was tempted to yawn.

"Lucas Itoi?"

That caught Ninten's attention. His eyes widened slightly. Surely it couldn't be the same Lucas from that morning. Right? He twisted his head a bit, and sure enough, he saw the same slight frame walking up the aisle to the man, who now held his papers out to him. The blonde now wore a black jacket, presumably to hide his messy shirt. Ninten suddenly felt bad again. He also noticed, with some curiosity, that the room had gone silent once his name had been called. Taking the papers from the teacher swiftly, the boy's body turned and he gave the class a fleeting look as he meandered back the way he came. When his cerulean eyes met Ninten's, the latter gave him a big smile, recognizing him from their all-too-recent encounter. Lucas looked like a deer caught in headlights for a second before he put on a small, unsure smile of his own and hurried back to his seat. Ninten resisted the urge to laugh. _The kid must __be__ so shy_. It was cute.

Once the next name was called out, the sparse chatter resumed. Nichol closed his eyes once more, having opened them to stare at the blonde menacingly. "Ugh. He's in this homeroom too?"

"Guess so," Ninten answered, even though it had been a rhetorical question.

And again the names turned dull. The most interesting was the Kumatora Osohe girl, whose bright pink hair shocked him as she made quick work of walking to and from Mr. Hale's desk, scanning her schedule with well-practiced eyes.

Then his name was called.

"Ninten Podunk?"

The dark-haired boy stood and walked the few feet it took to reach his desk and took his papers with a small "thank you". As he turned to return from where he'd come, he let himself scan the room. There were several girls staring at him, a couple smiling sweetly at him. He ignored them, sweeping over to where Lucas sat, near the back. He and the pinkette appeared to be friends, as she had just snatched up his schedule to compare their classes. Their eyes met once more, and Ninten flashed a grin at him, the expression widening as Lucas looked confused, like he didn't know why he was being smiled at. The dark-haired boy almost didn't want to sit down and break their eye contact.

After everyone else's, including Nichol's, names were called, Hale barely got through what he was required to tell them all before the bell rang. Part of Ninten wanted to wait up for Lucas just to say hello again, but Nichol all but dragged him out the door, going on about the teachers and commenting on how they had the same lunch period, subtly suggesting the two should sit together. Ninten, not knowing what else to say, accepted this offer.

The first part of the day passed by in a blur for the dark-haired boy. He went to three different classes, each with a teacher and other students and stupid handouts and papers that needed signing and what not; Chemistry, Algebra II and World History. None of them particularly interested him at all, and he hardly paid any attention to what was said. He wasn't thinking about anything in particular besides the bell ringing so he could get the hell outta there. School had never been a strong point for him.

He ended up not eating anything at lunch due to leaving his lunch money at home and having spent his only dollar on Lucas' Coke earlier that morning. He sat with Nichol and Rob in the cafeteria, the noise throughout the huge room quite loud. Watching them chew their food idly, Ninten suddenly decided to ask the question that had been bugging him the entire day so far. "So, Nichol, you said to stay away from that Lucas guy," he began, watching as the brunette's expression darkened. "Why?"

Swallowing, Nichol grunted. "Well for starters, he's a faggot," he spit the last word, like it left a bad taste in his mouth. This made Ninten frown; what was wrong with being gay? That was no reason to shun anyone. "But even worse than that, he's a freak. The first week of last year, he almost killed three kids."

Ninten's jaw dropped when he processed that information. "Wh-what? What happened?"

Nichol put his sandwich down on his plate and wiped at his mouth with a napkin before continuing. "I'm not even shitting you. That day at lunch, he was in line, and I don't know what made him do it, maybe the length of the line or the food or something, but he did it. There was this huge flash of lights, and you could...feel something in the air, like an electric current or something, and then everyone in the line was either on the floor or leaning over, dazed and confused. The only one who wasn't even slightly affected was that fag. The three closest to him were unconscious and admitted to the hospital. One of 'em didn't even wake up for three days. Three days!" He threw his hands up in the air. "He's fucking insane, whatever he did. Only a few people like myself actually saw it without getting hit by whatever the hell it was, but everyone knows about it. Even though he was let off the hook because of lack of evidence, I know that he did it. The freak."

Now Ninten was truly shocked. Not so much from the story, however. From Nichol's descriptions. If what he'd said was true, if Lucas really had caused that brilliant flash of light in the cafeteria line a year ago... "You don't say..." he finally responded, still too deep in his own thoughts to answer properly. So there was someone else like him in this place. And he'd been the first person he had run into (no pun intended) that day. There had to be some reason as to why.

Destiny?

No. It was probably just a coincidence. A really, _really_ rare coincidence.

The rest of the day was absolutely fruitless in terms of learning. Ninten wandered from one class to the other, thinking almost entirely about that intriguing blonde kid whom now seemed infinitely more interesting. He couldn't believe it. Someone else who shared his psychic powers. What were the odds of that, really? Now Ninten wanted more than ever to speak with him again, to see if he happened to know anything that he himself didn't.

His last class of the day offered him one such opportunity. He hadn't seen him come in, as his back was turned to the door, but when the teacher called roll he heard his name again. Lucas Itoi. Ninten turned his head and smiled as the blonde called here a few seconds late, their gazes meeting. Lucas still looked confused, but his smile was less wary and unsure this time, complimenting his features nicely.

He would sit with him tomorrow for sure. He was sitting at the very back, all by himself at a desk intended for four. Their teacher, Mrs. Oliveri, amused him with her demeanor and passion for what she did, going on about the exciting things they would do that year. Her voice could use some work, but she was still nice. Ninten once chanced a glance around himself to look back at his blonde acquaintance; the blonde's eyes were directed at him even before he'd turned around, and Ninten smiled at him again, barely concealing his chuckle as the other boy's cheeks colored and he looked away sharply. Ah, his reactions were so pricelessly adorable.

At the end of the day, Lucas practically sprinted out the door, no doubt relieved for the day to be over. Ninten knew _he_ definitely was. A bit turned around, it took him almost ten minutes to find his way back to the main gates and remember which way he had to walk in order to get back home. Starting down the sidewalk, he was deafened by the trail of buses driving by to transport students to their respective houses. He scoffed. Walking was really the only exercise he got for the most part, so he was happy to do it. Unless you lived a long ways away, there were no excuses.

Nevertheless, he sighed contentedly. He was looking forward to tomorrow.

—**e—n—d—c—h—a—p—t—e—r—**

_**A/N: I'm pretty sure I don't like how this turned out...it's all a boring recap of the last two chapters with more Ninten thrown in! Dx I'm sorry. I just wanted to give Ninten a bit more depth, to convey some things. Apologies if you hate it. **__**Next chapter will be more original, if anything.**__****_

Oh and by the way: I know NintenxLucas is weird. But I'm a huuuge weird pairing whore. Hopefully I'll turn you into a believer. :D

In any case, pretty please leave a review telling me whatcha liked, didn't like, things I can improve on, etc. etc.

Bye guys! C:


	4. At Home with Father

_**DISCLAIMER: Absolutely not.**_

—**s—t—a—r—t—c**—**h**—**a**—**p**—**t—e**—**r**—

As soon as he walked in the door, he just knew it was going to be one of those days.

There were five empty beer bottles on the kitchen table, a sixth that was half empty, and a knife and piece of wood on the table. His father had probably been whittling again; he sometimes did that, when he had nothing else to do. It looked like the rough shape of a person, which was very common. Flint only ever carved two things: his deceased mother and brother.

Said father was laying face up on the sofa nearby in the adjacent living room, hat lying on the floor a few feet away, presumably having been tossed in that direction via a drunken stupor. Upon hearing the door shut, he opened his eyes groggily. Lucas wondered how long he'd been passed out like that.

"G'afternoon, son," his father greeted him as if this were the norm. It practically was.

"Hello, dad," Lucas responded, thoroughly relieved he wasn't still drunk enough to be boorish and quick-to-violence. The blonde fumbled with his messenger bag while Flint sat himself upright, not yet feeling signs of a head or stomach ache. His hangover would probably begin in a few hours. "I have a couple of papers for you to sign. Please."

"Sure, kiddo. Just ssset them on the tuh...table an' I'll get to 'em..." the man slurred, though he seemed to be well enough off to stand up with little difficulty.

"Alright." Lucas did as he was told. "I'm going to go outside for a little while...I'll make dinner when I get back, okay?"

Flint wordlessly nodded, opening a drawer in the kitchen and scouring it for a pen.

Having been approved, Lucas dropped his bag near the door and stepped outside again, removing his jacket and wrapping it around his waist. He didn't even bother with changing out of his school clothes. Crunching his way across the yard, he stopped in front of the small brown dog house a little ways away from their much larger abode, to see an equally as brown dog lay inside with his eyes closed. Lucas almost didn't want to wake him from his peaceful-looking slumber, but didn't even have to; the dog's eyes opened when he heard his owner's footsteps approach.

Lucas smiled. "Hey, Boney. Wanna go for a walk?"

Boney barked up at him in an affirmative kind of way, jumping up and circling around himself once. _Of course, Lucas! Whenever you do, I do too!_

Lucas laughed at his antics, his spirits immediately lifting. "Alright then, let's go!"

So they ran together, down even further along the not-so-beaten path all the way to the point where the thin grass ended and the thick layer of sand began. Their house was blissfully close to the ocean, something Lucas had always liked. The blonde took off his good shoes and rolled the hems of his pants up before stepping foot on the grainy surface, tempted to giggle as it sifted in between his toes and tickled him. Boney ran ahead, dipping his front paw into the sea. _The water isn't all that bad today._

Lucas followed his companion's lead, sticking a toe into the cerulean water. It was nice and warm, a tad too warm. Nevertheless, it felt good, and he found himself walking along the beach, feet in the water, Boney trotting beside him. His mind was free and he could think.

_So, did anything happen today?_ Boney asked him telepathically, having accepted long ago that his favorite owner possessed psychokinetic powers, including telepathy to a certain extent.

Lucas shook his head. "Not really. Fuel and Kumatora are still Fuel and Kumatora. Nichol is still Nichol. School still sucks." He paused. "Although I did meet someone new today, who didn't look at me like an alien or a freak."

Boney knew all about Lucas' little mishap a year ago and to what extent it affected him at school. _Really? Who?_

Lucas' eyes darted across the sparkling waters to his left. "His name's Ninten. He's new." Another pause. "Funny thing is, though, he hung out with Nichol all day, and even after probably being told all about me, he still...smiled at me. It was the weirdest thing."

Boney made no audible sound. _He sounds like a sensible kid._

"I don't know. I mean, the only reason we talked in the first place is because he ran into me and made my Coke explode all over me."

_Oh. So that's why you smell all sweet._

"Yeah." Lucas then looked at Boney quickly. "Wait, it isn't that noticeable, is it?"

Boney met his gaze. Well, dog noses are much more sensitive to smells than human noses, so not to other humans, I think. But to me, yes.

Lucas continued walking. "Oh. That makes sense. I guess."

_So do you think this boy could become a friend of yours?_

Lucas was quiet for a while, pondering his companion's innocent question. "Maybe, I guess," he finally replied, digging his toes into the wet sand. "He seems nice enough. And like he doesn't care about what other people think. But I don't even know him."

Boney made a little guttural noise. _Well, you never know until you try._

Lucas inhaled, exhaled and smiled down at his canine friend. "You've got a good point there," he relented, patting his dog on the head gently. Boney leaned into the touch, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

The sun had begun to set by the time they were walking back up the path to their home once again, a good hour and a half or so later. Lucas sighed, looking at his feet forlornly as they trudged along. "I don't want to go back," he spoke aloud. "Not when he's like that. I can't take it."

Boney whined. _I know. Flint still has the drinking problem._

"But it isn't just that, it's getting worse," Lucas insisted as the two neared the wooden abode; they could see it now. "I thought it would be a few weeks or months, maybe. But it's been a year now. I'm trying to get past it, but it's...it's just so hard, when he does this. He's holding us both back."

_Talk to him about it._

Lucas shot Boney a surprised look. "What? I can't do that. Neither of us can handle talks like that. He's a grown man. And he's my father. He can do whatever he wants." He looked away, frowning some more. "...I still wish he wouldn't, though."

Bidding Boney a quick goodbye at the doghouse, Lucas took a deep breath before approaching the house. Just have to cook dinner and eat, cook dinner and eat, he told himself, and then he would he home free. Holed up in his room, at least. Shoes clacking on the steps as he ascended the three that stood in his path, he opened the door a bit tentatively, for one could never know for sure when Flint would become violent. He usually didn't, but it did happen on occasion.

However, Flint merely sat on the sofa in the living room, watching T.V. harmlessly. He looked up at his son when he entered and closed the door, smiling wearily at him. Flint returned the smile with a minute variation of his own. "Welcome back," he greeted him, holding a stack of papers in his left hand. "Got your papers all signed and ready to go."

Lucas nodded once. "Okay. Thanks, dad. I'll start dinner now," he replied, walking into the kitchen and opening their pantry, examining their food choices. "Did you want anything specific?"

Flint hiccuped. "No, anything's fine."

Only then did Lucas notice the half-empty bottle on the coffee table in front of his father. He sighed heavily. "Right."

The boy pulled out a couple cans of soup and shut the door behind him, placing these cans on the counter while he rummaged around for a pot to heat them up in. Locating said vessel in the lower cabinets, he placed it on the stove at turned the little knob to seven and a half, watching as the panel below the steel pot began glowing red.

Now, he could cook real food. His mother had taught him how, before she'd died. He just didn't want to do so tonight, feeling both lazy and not really in the mood. Plus, this kind of soup, chunky beef and potato, was his father's favorite. Best to appeal to him if anything.

Once the pot was hot enough, he opened the cans with the handy built-in can opener and poured them both in, stirring occasionally. Flint had the sense to get up and clear the table while his son readied the food, beer bottles clinking as they hit the bottom of the trash can. A few minutes later Lucas was ladling the thick hot substance into a couple of bowls, Flint grabbing their drinks. He was courteous enough to drink water during dinner, just as Lucas did.

The blonde sat the bowls down at their respective places on the dinner table, across from one another. With a couple spoons and napkins, the two were seated, T.V. still buzzing in the background. Lucas' bites were slow and deliberate while Flint shoveled the meal into his mouth at a set pace. Neither talked for a minute. They really weren't good at this. Both males were quiet by default, Flint's silence brazen and Lucas' careful. Conversation had always been initiated by the dead half of their family.

Finally, when the two were about halfway done with dinner, Flint decided to pipe up. "So, how was school today?" he asked between bites of warm brown soup.

Lucas wiped his mouth with a napkin, preparing to take a sip of water from his glass. "Fine," he answered, wrapping thin fingers around the glass' body, which was covered in condensation. Flint didn't know about Lucas' school life, or how hellish it could be. There were quite a few things Lucas didn't tell his father, actually.

"That's good. All your classes seem nice?"

"Yeah. Algebra II seems like it might be difficult, but I'm sure that if I study, it'll be okay." Lucas had never been very good in his math classes. He'd barely passed his Algebra I class with a sixty two percent average. His Geometry grades had been a lot better, in high C and even low B territories, but he wasn't looking forward to the coming year.

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Flint offered, finishing up his soup. Lucas smiled at his father's support. When he wasn't drunk or hung over, he was as good a father as any.

When Lucas had slurped the last of his portion from the bottom of the bowl and stood up to wash them, Flint held up a hand. "I'll wash 'em tonight, son," he said, taking Lucas' bowl from him and standing up himself.

Lucas frowned. "Are you sure?"

Flint nodded. "Yes. You still have homework, no?"

Now that he mentioned it, Lucas remembered with a jolt that he did indeed have preliminary Algebra homework to do. Eucch. He cast his eyes sideways. "Oh yeah...guess I do."

"Then get to it. This old man can wash up a few dishes."

Lucas chuckled. "Okay, if you say so," he said, turning to grab his school bag from beside the front door before ascending he stairs behind him, the ones that led to his room. He really did love his father. He just didn't like the way he chose to deal with his problems.

He gently closed the door behind him. Pulling his Algebra textbook and folder out of his bag, he deposited it at the foot of his bed and flopped onto the sheets, belly first. Luckily the boy had a pencil in his pocket from earlier in the day, so he flipped to the appropriate page and began working on the assigned problems, one through twenty-six.

The first sixteen problems were easy enough; adding and subtracting rational numbers had long since been etched into his brain. -8+6 was obviously -2. The fractions were a bit harder, but conversion was also a basic enough skill. Multiplying and dividing those rational numbers took a little longer thanks to the conversions, but Lucas managed somehow. Order of operations threw him for a few problems before he remembered PEMDAS, face palming and erasing furiously.

The assignment had taken all but twenty minutes. Lucas flexed his fingers rather triumphantly, happy with his comprehension. But he knew that this was only the beginning. Come tomorrow, with the first lesson, he would definitely be as confused as ever. But that was tomorrow; he could enjoy his minuscule victory for tonight.

Lucas, who had come up into a sitting position during his problem solving, put his papers to the side and laid back into his pillows, yawning. A glance at his alarm clock told him it was only eight thirty, but he was quite tired. Perhaps he just wasn't used to so much thinking in such a small span of time. Or to waking up at four in the morning to the sound of his father banging on the door, forgetting that he did indeed have an alarm clock of his own.

For some reason, that reminded Lucas of his slightly sticky shirt. Right. He'd have to take a shower tonight if he didn't want his bed to get all bleh-ish, which he certainly did not. Sighing lightly, he lifted himself and hopped up off the bed, untucking his uniform shirt while he was at it. His bathroom was attached to his room, so he simply strode in and locked the door behind him, out of habit. He turned the handle in charge of water almost all the way to the left and pulled up on the little knob, successfully turning the shower on.

While he waited for the water to heat up, he stripped himself down, throwing black shirt, khaki pants, socks and boxers all into the dirty clothes pile at the end of the room. Looking at himself in the mirror, he frowned and poked himself in the stomach. He could stand to gain a few pounds; one could almost see his ribs. The only meal he ever skipped was lunch, and that was only on occasion. He'd never been a chunky boy, but he used to weigh about average for his age and height. Now he was almost fifteen pounds underweight. He supposed he shouldn't have been complaining, for there were tons of people who would kill to be his size, but it wasn't healthy, and it made him seem scrawnier than he already was.

He turned the fan on and stepped into the steaming shower, relishing the way it almost burned his skin. Lucas let the water cascade down his body, for a minute just standing there and ridding his mind of all other thoughts, just being. A shower, especially a warm shower, was one of few places the boy found solitude, a sanctuary of sorts where he could worry about nothing and relax fully. He tilted his head back, enjoying the way the jets of water gently massaged his scalp.

Wasting hot water was a no-no, however, so Lucas soon got down to business. Squirting himself a palm-full of shampoo, he lathered his hair up roughly, until one couldn't see the blonde anymore through the white bubbles. He then rubbed the bar of soap next to him on a washcloth he'd brought in, scrubbing his body clean. Face, arms, armpits, chest, stomach, lower extremities, legs, feet, even the back...nothing was safe from the onslaught of cleanliness.

Letting the water rinse all the soap and gunk away was the best part. It made one feel like a whole new person sometimes. ...or maybe that was just him. He lathered his hair up again one more time, and after rinsing that away, he turned the water off, shaking his head slightly to get hair out of his face. Lucas stepped out a much cleaner boy, all traces of stickiness thankfully gone. He grabbed the towel that sat on the counter and toweled himself dry, feeling even more tired than before somehow.

Back out in his room he put some more clothes on; pajamas, to be precise. An old, baggy white shirt and black sweats suited him just fine. Yawning one more time, the boy stuffed his book and homework back inside his backpack, because he knew that if he didn't, he would definitely forget about it the next day. Pulling the sheets on his side of the bed down, he climbed inside, turning the lamp on his bedside table off and snuggling into his pillow. He always left space and enough of the blanket for his brother, Claus. It was just something he did without thinking about it, a habit too ingrained in his mind to be removed from the cycle.

The room was almost silent. Almost. Lucas could hear clinking downstairs, and that meant one of two things; either his father was taking the trash out or he was downing another couple of beers. As much as he hoped it wasn't the latter, he knew it was. Flint had become addicted to the alcohol, too used to the drunken stupor that allowed him to forget the awful things that had happened. Lucas didn't understand why his father did it. The boy had been tempted many a time to try one of his father's beers, just to see why it was such a delicacy to him, but had never gone through with it. He was afraid that he'd become just like Flint. Always drinking, always living in denial, always living in the past. Lucas didn't like the pain either, but killing himself with alcohol would do nothing to help the situation. If only his father could see that.

But Lucas could almost understand. Claus, though Flint would never have uttered it aloud, had always been his favorite. Strong, outgoing, athletic and much more...boy-ish, more daring and unafraid to get down and dirty, smart and confident. Lucas did not blame him. And Hinawa...everyone loved Hinawa. She was always so kind and gentle, good-natured and beautiful. Blessing all with her presence, like a brunette angel from above. It was no wonder he was so anguished when they'd died. He was stuck with the crybaby, the wimp, the runt of the two, the one who'd never quite lived up to anyone's expectations. It certainly made sense.

Lucas sighed and turned onto his side. Reminiscing now of all times...he'd never be able to sleep if it kept up. He shut his eyes tight and focused on nothing but the sound of his own breathing in the darkness, in and out, in and out, in and out...

Soon he was out like a light, snoring ever so slightly as the night wore on around him.

—**e—n—d—c—h—a—p—t—e—r—**

_**A/N: I haven't forgotten about this fic, I swear. I just got caught up in other stuff. Had the first fourth of this chapter sitting around for the longest time...**_

Guh, I don't want Flint to be alcoholic! Bad Flint, bad! Geez, Lucas' life kinda sucks. Poor kid. Perhaps a certain someone can brighten it up just a tad? Hmm...

Sooo...got anything to say? Leave a review telling me whatcha liked, didn't like, things I can improve on, etc. etc. Even if you hated it! Tell me why!

We out.


	5. At Home with Mother

_**DISCLAIMER: Do I own any of this? Good question.**_

No, no I don't.

—**s—t—a—r—t—c**—**h**—**a**—**p**—**t—e**—**r**—

The dark-haired boy was greeted rather abruptly when he opened the door to their apartment.

His two little sisters smiled up at him, dressed in the same pink dresses and bow tied on opposite sides of their hair long blonde hair. "Hi Ninten!" they sang simultaneously, and to anyone else it would have been absolutely adorable...had they understood what exactly the little two had said, anyway. They spoke in an entirely different language all together, not at all like Tazmily's english.

Ninten rolled his eyes at their cuteness, but pat the heads anyway. "Evening, Trace and Mary," he answered them in the same language, that subtle little accent he had coming into play here. "How were your first days at school?"

The one on the left, Tracey, giggled as her big brother stepped into the flat and closed the door. "Mary got a boyfriend!"

Mary blushed, pushing her sister away only half-playfully. "Did not! Boys are stupid and so is Danny!"

Ninten mock-gasped. "A boyfriend?" he asked, setting his book bag down on the small couch in the living room. "Am I gonna have to come down there and bust some heads?"

Mary blushed even more. "No, big brother, leave Danny alone!"

Ninten laughed. "Oh, I was teasing, Mary. I'd never hit your precious boyfriend," he spoke in a cutesy voice, and Tracey laughed along with him. Mary ran into the kitchen, towards all three of theirs' mother.

"Mom, Ninten and Tracey are making fun of me!" she cried, stomping a socked foot on the linoleum flooring.

A woman with short blonde hair stood next to the range, stirring something in a pot with a large spoon. She wore an apron over her pink shirt and white capris, and when she looked back her blue eyes sparkled with amusement despite the reprimand she gave. "If you two don't knock it off, neither of you are getting dinner," she waved a finger at them warningly.

Ninten cast his brown eyes the other way, putting on as pitiful an expression as he could muster. "Tracey and I are sorry, mom," he proclaimed, shuffling over to her and hugging her around the middle. "We'll never do it again!"

Tracey mirrored her big brother's movements. "Yeah, mom, never!"

She scoffed. "Filthy liars," the woman rolled her eyes, "but I suppose that'll have to do. Now set the table, you lot, dinner's just about ready."

All three of her children nodded, exclaiming in unison, "Yes, ma'am!" Tracey went into their small cupboard to fetch the napkins, Mary opened the squeaky drawer to retrieve spoons, and Ninten utilized his height to grab four cups from the cabinets. He filled them all up with diet soda as his mother ladled soup into four different bowls, color-coded to match each person; pink for Tracey, purple for Mary, light blue for Ninten's mother and dark blue for Ninten. Soon the table was set up and ready for supper, bowls in place and everything.

Ninten sat next to Tracey and his mother next to Mary, sitting opposite of each other. A quick "thanks for the food" later, everyone was tucking into the meal, the potato soup appetizing, to say the least.

"Wow, ma, this is great," Ninten wiped his mouth with his napkin, having downed half his bowl in less than a minute.

She took a sip of her own. "Thank you, Ninten. Maybe you should slow down, before you drown yourself in soup."

The teen laughed. "But what better way to go? So delicious!"

Mary was blowing her entire bowl in an effort of cooling it, while Tracey stared up at her brother. "Ninten, how the heck can you eat it so fast when it's still so hot?" she asked, stirring her soup.

Ninten winked at her. "Like this. PK Freeze~" he said, holding his palm face up. In his hand appeared a little cube of ice, formed by the conglomeration of tiny particles of fast-freezed water particles he'd conjured with his mind. It glowed blue for a moment, but it disappeared quickly, leaving only an ice cube behind. He dropped this cube into Tracey's soup, chuckling at her dumbfounded expression. "Tada. Cool soup in like twenty seconds."

"Woah!" she gasped, watching as the cube quickly melted, merging with her soup to bring its temperature down in a flash. "You can do ice now too? Awesome!"

"Mhmm," he nodded triumphantly, taking another bite. "Had a fever going to bed, and when I woke up, bam. I could freeze stuff."

Ninten's mother gave her son a curious look. "Really? That's strange." She paused. "Maybe that's how you...learn new spells?"

Ninten laughed. "Spells? Oh, come on, mom, I'm not a wizard or something!" he argued playfully, crossing his arms. "It's a technique. A PSI technique."

She shook her head. "Oh, whatever. You can make up names all you like, I'm still calling them spells."

Ninten was tempted to tell his mother about the dream he'd had two nights prior, the one about the old man named George. George had told him that he knew all about Ninten's 'special powers' and that they were really called PSI techniques. PSI. Psychic Super Intelligence. The ability to mend, bend and create certain elements of nature, all with you mind. Told him about the fevers one gets when learning a new technique. Pretty much everything the man knew, he'd told him. Psychic Power, all the different kinds of it there were, about how to not use his PSI for malicious purposes. But he had never said anything about other people with his power, or what it was even for.

But he decided against it. She probably wouldn't believe him anyway. Hell, even he himself didn't quite believe it.

Tracey bounced up and down. "Big brother, you gotta teach me how to do that!" she beamed up at him, bright blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

Ninten smiled sheepishly at her. "Sorry, Trace, but I don't think it's something you can just teach," he said almost lamely.

Tracey's face fell so much it was almost comical. "Awh," she looked down at her soup once more, a dejected expression staining her young features.

Their mother smiled at the youngest sister. "But you know what you girls can do that Ninten can't?"

The two looked at her, slurping their soup up near simultaneously. "What?"

She stuck a finger into the air. "Have ice cream, of course!" she declared with a laugh. "As soon as you two finish your food I'll drive you to that cute little ice cream parlor on Mani Mani street."

Ninten looked horrified. "Ma!" he protested, picking up his bowl. "That's not even fair." He leaned back, the rest of the soup pouring down into his open mouth.

She gave him an indifferent look. "You can make your own ice cream now, right?"

He frowned. "Hahah. I don't have any cream or vanilla. I can't even make a snow cone without syrup!"

His mother shrugged. "That sounds like a personal problem."

Mary laughed. "Hahah! Ninten doesn't get ice cream!" she taunted, licking her spoon none too daintily. Her sister said nothing, eating her soup thoughtfully.

"So I don't think we've asked you yet," Tracey piped up, readying another bite of soup. "How was your day at school, big bro?"

Ninten set his bowl down, eyes widening a fraction at the unexpected question. "How was school?" he echoed, staring past his sister into the cream-colored wall on the other side. He was silent for a moment. "School was...good."

His mom shook her head at him. "Oh, Ninten. I know that look, the one that's in your eyes," she said, leaning on the table as her daughters finished their meal. "Who's the lucky boy?"

If Ninten blushed easily, he would have done so here. "M-_Ma_!" he shot her an indignant look. "Why does it always have to be like that, huh? Just 'cause I'm gay doesn't mean I want to f..." he trailed off, remembering he was in the presence of two (one eight and one nine years old) little sisters. "Doesn't mean I want to kiss every guy I see."

Mary was quick on the chance to get Ninten back for earlier. "Ninten's got a boyfriend~!" she sang, giggling to herself.

The woman gave her only son a reprimanding look. "Watch your tone," she warned. "I was just joking, anyway. But you do look like something...special happened at school. What?"

Ninten lowered his gaze apologetically. He had always been very defensive of his sexuality; he'd been picked on quite a bit back in his hometown for being homosexual. "Sorry. But I..." he began, thinking of how to word it. "I met this guy today. He stood out from the moment I met him, this morning right when I got to school. He's a loner, I guess, because the entire school is either scared of him or hates him. He...I think he might have PSI too, ma."

Her eyes widened during the recount. "Really?" A pause. "How do you know that?"

"Well...there are rumors about him, I guess. About him 'nearly killing' three people without even moving, and there was a big flash of light," he said, using air quotes accordingly. "I don't know for sure, but that sounds like PSI to me. How crazy is that, me bumping into a fellow gifted on my first day of school in a new place?"

She leaned back. "It certainly is crazy. You said he's a loner? Maybe you two could be friends."

Ninten grinned. "Oh, don't you worry! We have a class together. I'm gonna do everything I can to find out if he does have PSI or not. Friendship is just an added bonus. He seems nice enough."

"Mom!" Mary exclaimed, taking her sister's bowl and stacking it up with her own. "We're finished!"

The mother of three stood up. "Okay then. Go put your shoes on and we'll leave in a minute."

Both girls threw hands up in the air. "Yay!" they cheered in unison.

Ninten watched as his mother took all four dirty bowls to the sink with brows furrowed. "Ma, you're not seriously gonna make me stay here while you guys go out for ice cream, are you?"

The bowls clattered when they hit the bottom of the stainless steel sink. She turned to him. "Of course I am. You don't even like ice cream, anyway."

"Doesn't mean I can't get, like, a soda or something!"

She smiled and winked. "We have soda here." She walked over to the front door of the flat, slipping her flip flops on. "Don't you have homework you need to do?"

"N—" he began to argue, but stopped when he realize he did indeed have work to do. "...well, okay. But it won't take me all night. And by the way, I've got stuff for you to sign."

"Remind me when we get back, then." She pulled out her keys. "Alright then, ready?"

The two girls beamed up at her. "Yeah!"

The door slammed when the blonde trio shut it, leaving Ninten all alone at the dinner table. He sighed, resting his chin in his hand. Now he was bored.

After a minute of feeling sorry for himself, the dark-haired teen decided to detach his butt from the chair and stand, stretching his arms as he did so. Slowly he made his way to the couch in the living room, plopping himself down and grabbing the remote from the coffee table sitting in front of him. With a small _CLICK_, the TV across from him coming to life.

He flipped through the channels aimlessly. They only had very basic cable, so they only had maybe ten channels besides the news and such. Nothing on any of these ten channels interested him, and he would fall asleep if he attempted to watch the news. He frowned. He missed the TV in his home country, where all his favorite shows aired. Tazmily didn't have anything like them aside from maybe the cartoons on that one channel that were obviously aimed at kids. What a bummer.

Ninten looked over at his backpack, which still sat on the couch beside him, zippers glinting in the artificial light. He glared at it. _Infernal_ homework, getting assigned to him on the very first day! He briefly pondered getting rid of his homework with a quick PK Fire, but decided against it; he might burn the entire complex down along with it. Begrudgingly he pulled the bag towards himself, unzipping the top set of tracks. He pulled out his AP Literature textbook. He would have to read a chapter out of the first unit by tomorrow. He then pulled out his Algebra II textbook. Problems one through twenty-six due tomorrow. Bleh. Sometimes he really hated being smart.

He had the Algebra work done in five minutes flat. That was like...less than a fourth of a minute per problem. He couldn't even believe thy had been an assignment at all, though he could understand its use in waking up students who'd been math-less all summer. Ninten had always been very good in his math classes; anything below a ninety-three or so was surprising to him.

Since that was done, he was basically home free. The Lit homework could wait until later that night. Relaxing back into the sofa, Ninten watched as the channel he had stopped on, the Food channel, went through different steps of preparing a delicious-looking steak dish that had his mouth watering even though he wasn't hungry. His mother was a great cook, but oftentimes she didn't have the time to cook huge or complicated meals like that due to her working two jobs; one during their school time at a local diner and one for a few hours at night at a convenience store. Once Ninten had attempted to make a chicken dinner...the family had mutually agreed to never speak of the atrocity ever again.

Ten minutes of watching a random woman cook later, the front door opened once more and in stepped the female part of his immediate family. They looked quite content, actually. His mother set her purse down on the arm of the sofa and glanced down at her son. "Watching T.V?" It was more of a statement than a question. "You'd better be done with your homework."

Ninten rolled his eyes. "I am, ma," he assured, sitting up a bit to dig around in his bag. "Just need you to sign some stuff."

"Oh yeah." His mother quickly turned to the kitchen, striding towards the left side. "Let me grab a pen."

While the woman did this, Ninten's little sister Tracey ran up to him cutely, holding out a little cup covered with a plastic lid, big smile on her face. "Big brother, this is for you!" she sang, practically bouncing up and down as he took the thing and looked inside it.

"What is it?" he asked before his brain registered the cup's contents.

"It's ice cream, just for you!" she exclaimed, nodding at herself. "Vanilla-flavored, your favorite!"

His mother returned from her quest to locate a black pen. She gave the two a smile. "She bugged me and bugged me to get that, y'know. Feel lucky."

Ninten was silent for a moment before he looked back to his little sister with the most grateful expression he'd worn in a while. "Oh, Tracey," he said before pulling her into a big hug. "Thank you so much, that's so thoughtful!"

The youngest sibling laughed. "Anything for big bro!" she giggled as he let her go and stood up, handing off his papers to his mother and using the plastic spoon that had come with the ice cream to take a bite.

"It's really good!" he claimed, making Tracey smile even wider. In reality, he really didn't like ice cream much, but vanilla was the preferred flavor if he ever did have to eat it, and his little sister had just gotten it for him out of the goodness of her heart, for goodness' sake. The least he could do was eat it and like it. Besides, this ice cream was more...creamy than others he had had. He really did like it.

Mary, who had been watching the T.V. now that it had changed from the woman's cooking show to a show about how to make candy, decided to join in on the conversation. She nodded. "Yeah, it really is! I could eat a whole gallon of that stuff, it's _sooo_ good!"

Ninten didn't hesitate to take more spoonfuls of the frozen dairy treat into his mouth. "I know whatcha mean."

Their mother set Ninten's papers down on top of his backpack. "There," she said simply, turning to her little two. "Now, I believe it's time for something."

Both girls looked up at their mother with disdain. "Mama," Mary whined, "shower time already?"

The woman nodded. "Yes. I have to go to work a bit early today, so you guys will need to go to bed early, too. You have school tomorrow, after all."

This made enough sense, but it also kickstarted a childish debate.

"Well, it's Mary's turn to go first," Tracey announced, plopping herself down next to her big brother on the sofa.

"What? No it isn't, it your turn!" Mary cried indignantly.

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yeah huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yeah _huh_!"

"Enough!" the mother of three silenced the sisters almost immediately. "It _is_ your turn, Mary. Just get it over with, it's a shower, for goodness' sake."

The elder sister put on a defeated frown. "Yes, mama," she relented monotonously, walking herself toward the small hallway that housed the hall bathroom and Ninten's room.

Ninten's mom shook her head. "Honestly..." she said to no one in particular, striding in the opposite direction to the door that led to her much bigger room, which she shared with her two girls.

The other two gone, Tracey stared at the T.V. absently as her brother went about finishing his ice cream. Ninten only barely held the urge to laugh back inside him; he really did love his silly family and all the stuff they did and said, annoying as well as fluffy. He couldn't imagine living without them. ...geez, where did all this sentimentality come from, anyway?

"Do you wish we were still at home, Ninten?" his little sister suddenly asked, gazed still locked on the moving pictured contained in the box in front of her.

Ninten, try as he might've to hide it, was rather taken aback. He gave his sister a calculating look before answering. "We are at home, Trace."

She shook her head almost immediately, blonde hair swishing ever so slightly. "You know what I mean, brother," she glanced over at him from the side of her eyes. "Back across the sea."

Ninten wasn't stupid by any stretch of the imagination, and as such he had indeed known what the girl had meant. He poked at what remained of his ice cream (which wasn't much) as he thought about his next answer. He hadn't really given the topic much consideration since they'd moved in a little over two weeks ago. Was he happy here? Or did he miss Ana and Loid and Teddy and all his friends back in the place he'd grown up?

Of _course_ he missed them. That was a given. But somehow, Ninten felt it was a bit too early to be judging this place just yet.

"Well, of course it'd be nice to see all our friends again," Ninten finally spoke, observing as a machine pressed little dots of chocolate with weird tips at the end and dubbed them 'chocolate kisses' on the television. "But we have to give this place a chance too, y'know? Who knows, maybe it'll be even better."

Tracey was silent for a moment before she grinned. "That's what I was thinking too. I met lots of nice people today! We can make new friends and everything!"

Ninten smiled at his sister's optimism. "That's the spirit, Trace," he approved, taking a last bite of vanilla goodness. He was suddenly reminded of that Lucas boy. Along with his ice cream cone-esque hair. He snorted out loud. "We'll like it here."

It wasn't very much longer after that that Mary exited the bathroom, dressed in her plaid purple pajamas and still quite wet. "Your turn, Tracey."

Tracey sighed, hopping up off the couch and jogging into the bathroom to clean herself as well.

Not three minutes later, the door to their left opened once again and out stepped their mother, clad in her convenience store uniform. She grabbed her keys from the kitchen counter. "Good bye, kids," she said, kissing both Mary and Ninten on the head. "Love you all. Tell Tracey for me, would you?" she requested as she slipped her tennis shoes on.

"'Course," her son answered, holding up a hand. "Bye, ma."

"Bye, mama! Have a good night at work!" Mary said brightly, blowing her a kiss.

The woman gave them a serene smile before she closed herself out, locking the deadbolt behind her.

After Tracey finished her shower, they all voted on what they should watch on the T.V. next. Ninten was out-voted and had to endure nearly two hours of a show about multi-colored ponies and their efforts to teach the young audience about friendship and being nice. The scenarios were so cliche he had to fight the urge to gag every five minutes. His sisters seemed to enjoy it though, eventually learning the words to the intro/ending song and singing it in english. The boy sat through it all as best he could, but after a while he could begin to feel his (albeit rather questionable) masculinity start to disintegrate little by little; he decided that enough was enough.

"Alright, that's more than enough My Little Pony for now," he said in a way that told his siblings he meant business. "It's bedtime, anyway."

The younger two gasped and looked up at him with twin sets of wide, pleading blue eyes. "Aww, big brother!" they cried in unison. "Please just let us stay up a _tiny_ bit longer!"

Ninten frowned at them. "Do you know how much trouble I'd be in if I did that? To bed, both of you."

And so two dejected little girls and a rather triumphant teenage boy marched into the master bedroom, where a king-sized bed lay in the middle of the room for the two to share with their mother. Ninten had offered to house Tracey, but his mother would have none of it, insisting that he, being a growing teenager, have it to himself. Ninten supposed that was a good thing for him...for reasons he wouldn't go into detail about.

As they climbed under the covers, he plugged in the nightlight near their bed. Tracey still wasn't completely over her 'scared of the dark' phase. "Good night, you two."

"Good night, Mr. Party Pooper," Mary huffed, turning to face away from him.

Ninten just laughed. "Yep, well, sleep tight and don't let the bedbugs bite," he said as he strode out of the room, turning the lights off.

"You too, big bro!" Tracey called after him.

Yawning himself, Ninten glanced around the living room and kitchen areas. He wasn't forgetting anything, was he? Doors locked, oven and stove off, T.V. off...and he'd read that AP Lit chapter during the onslaught of children's T.V. programming. He dismissed himself as good, striding into the bathroom to take his own shower.

Strip down, climb in, jump back out because of how cold the water was, turn up heat, climb back in, wet self, shampoo his hair, scrub his body all over, rinse thoroughly, and climb out once more. He was done in less than four minutes' time.

Fresh, clean, and tired, Ninten flopped down on his unmade bed, paying his messy (dirty clothes laying randomly strewn across the floor, various belongings he still hadn't decided the permanent placement of dispersed here and there, no biggie) room no mind. Pulling the covers over his head, he ignored his one forgotten bedtime habit, instead focusing on sleep. He was going to need it to wake up on time the next morning.

He was asleep within minutes.

—**e**—**n**—**d**—**c**—**h**—**a**—**p**—**t**—**e**—**r** —

_**A/N: I really would like to update this more often. Really. But I've got, what, four fics on my plate? Grr. I'm not good at this whole pacing thing.**_

So, Ninten's mom. I don't know her name. I shall look it up. If she doesn't have one, her name shall be Shelly. Mwhahah. And I know Tracey is Ness' sister and Mary is the queen/George's wife. 'tis for the lulz, people~ And what language do they speak? What country are they from? I'll let you guys guess.

Thanks for reading! Leave a review telling me whatcha liked, didn't like, things I can improve on, etc. etc.

T O B E C O N T I N U E D . . .


	6. Art Buddies

_**DISCLAIMER: That's a big fat no.**_

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"Why do you have so much _crap_ with you anyway, Lucas?" Kumatora asked, throwing what little tact she had to the wind as she struggle to carry the pile of textbooks her blonde buddy had temporarily bestowed upon her.

"Because all my teachers assigned me a textbook, one for each class. Except art, I guess. And I need binders for all of them too. And paper and supplies. I got up super early this morning to go buy those supplies, you know," Lucas reasoned, half-running to find his new locker and get his stuff settled in it before the bell rang. "602, 602...ah, here!" he exclaimed, having found it. Thankfully it was relatively close to his first period class. "Okay. The combination is twenty-three...four...seventeen...eh?"

Kumatora growled at him. "To the left first, blockface. Left twice over, right once over, and left directly to the number."

"Oh, right." He tried the combination again, and this time was rewarded with a click and opened the metal door up to reveal a relatively small space. Still, Lucas could make do with it. "Alright! Now, let's see. Won't need Algebra or AP World until later, so they can go here for now..." he placed the two binders he'd chosen to represent these classes in the locker, as well as relieving Kumatora of their textbooks. "And I wont need my sketchbook until then, either, but that's easy to carry. My bag can hold three binders, office supplies and the English textbook, and I'll just carry the Chem book with me..."

Kumatora sighed. "We're gonna be late."

Lucas flinched. "Right. Just pile the rest of the books in there, Kuma. I'll reorganize later." The pinkette happily followed his instructions, and Lucas slammed the locker shut, setting the combination dial back to zero before they sprinted off to Mrs. Opala's first period English class.

They managed to step foot in the classroom right before the bell rang. The teacher gave them both a skeptical look but beckoned them inside. Putting on a sheepish smile, Lucas hurried to his seat, Kumatora taking things a bit more leisurely.

"Alright then, kiddies," she said, rising from her main desk and striding toward the center of the room. "Did everyone do that essay assignment? The one about your summer."

Lucas wasn't the only one who _ehhh?_'d at this. _Essay? Aw, dammit! How could I have forgotten about something like that?_ If he was completely honest with himself, Lucas didn't remember Opala saying anything about a summer-themed essay.

"Er, Mrs. Opala, you never said anything about an essay," a kid in the front of the room pointed out bravely, hand half up in the air.

She scoffed at him. "Of course I did. Right, class?" When no one answered her, she frowned. "You mean none of you did it? Seriously? Hm. Maybe I did forget to assign it. In that case, that's today's classwork. You're going to write about what you did over the summer. I want at least half a page, avoid using the word 'things', and for Christ's sake, use punctuation marks." She wrote a few things up on the whiteboard. "If you finish early, start defining these terms. No using dictionaries! You should know these."

"Lucas, can I borrow a piece of paper?" Kumatora asked him, clicking her pen open.

"Borrow? Why would I want the paper back after you've written on it?"

"Okay, smart ass, fine. Can I _have_ a piece of paper?"

"I dunno, can you?"

Kumatora looked about ready to slice his head off (with what, he didn't want to know). Lucas laughed, handing her a blank page from his binder. "Oh, you know I'm kidding. Here." The page was all but snatched from his loose grip, and she rolled her eyes at him before scribbling her name on it.

The blonde looked down at his own piece, frowning slightly. He was lost as to what he could possibly write about. Sure, he knew it ha to be summer-related, but he hadn't done anything over the summer. Like, literally. Nothing. Every day had consisted of getting up, cooking for his father, sitting around doing basically nothing, and going back to sleep, with the occasional run to the store every couple of days. As such, he was forced to pick something from the minuscule pool of things that could pass as a legitimate topic. Lame as it sounded, he chose to write about the time he'd taken Boney for a walk at the beach and a crab had latched onto the brown dog's nose, scaring them both out of their wits.

By the time he was done getting his thoughts out on the paper in a presentable form, the class period was three-fourths of the way over, and his paper was covered in scrawling pencil marks, the essay three times as long as the minimum. Shrugging, he stood up to turn the work in, noting as he went that almost everyone else had already finished.

When he got back to his seat, he noticed with amused frown that Kumatora had helped herself to more of his paper. She grinned at him, giving the blonde a thumbs up. "Thanks, Luke," she winked.

Lucas merely waved a hand at her. "Mm."

Looking up at the board, Lucas copied down the words they were required to define. The first was 'culture'. Hmm. How would he describe that? Thinking about it for a minute, he wrote his answer. Next up was 'perspective'. That was a bit easier. Most of the rest were easier, too, consisting of words like 'genre,' 'relevancy,' and 'identity.' He wasn't sure why they needed to define such words, but it probably had something to do with the upcoming lesson.

Before he knew it, the bell had rung, dismissing the teens from class. Lucas packed his things away, meaning to leave class with Kumatora.

"Itoi, where are you?" Opala called, looking up from a paper at her desk.

Lucas started. "Uh, here, ma'am," he identified himself, raising his hand tentatively.

"Come here for a sec," she beckoned him over.

Kumatora nudged him. "Want me to stay?"

He shook his head. "I'm fine, you go ahead," he answered, grabbing his bag's strap and making his way against the flow of students and to Opala's desk. Some gave him weird looks, but Lucas was far too used to worse to even remotely care.

The chunky teacher waved a paper in her hands. "Did you write this?" she asked him bluntly, holding his paper out to him; the paper he'd just written about Boney and the crab.

He resisted the urge to reply smartly. His name was on it, wasn't it? "Yes, ma'am," he replied, wondering what he'd done wrong.

She looked back down at it, pursing her lips. "It's quite good, you know," she praised him, setting it down. "Your skill is far above that of this class. No spelling errors, complex and varied sentences, astounding vocabulary...and you told the story well. I almost laughed out loud." The mousy-haired woman crossed her arms. "Have you ever considered taking a creative writing class?"

Lucas was taken aback by her kind words, but smiled modestly in response to it. "No, ma'am, the thought never really crossed my mind..."

"Well, if I may say so, you should. I think you'd enjoy it." She smiled. "Keep up the good work, Itoi. Off to class you go!"

"Right! Thank you, ma'am!" he bowed to her slightly (it was more like an intense nod of the head), turning to exit the room. Honestly, he was quite pleased. He'd never been praised like that about his writing. It was something he liked to do with his spare time (well, besides reading), to the point that he had a couple notebooks in his room full of short stories and character studies. He'd never shown anyone these works-in-progress; Lucas never had been the most self-confident boy, and it didn't help that a lot of the things he wrote were more mature in nature (no, not like porn or anything. Just things like struggling with the death of family members or with one's sexuality, y'know, that kind of mature).

He smiled at himself. Maybe he'd become a writer one day? Either way, hearing of someone enjoying his work really put a spring in his step as he all but jogged to his Chemistry class.

_-asdfjkl;-_

The rest of the day had been pretty uneventful. He'd done classwork. That was about all there was to it. During lunch he'd been reprimanded for doing his homework at home instead of doing it together with Fuel and Kumatora, and he'd been mildly confused by the topics they covered in Algebra II today. But that was okay, because the day was almost over. He only had one class left, his easiest: Art 2D.

He initially had forgotten the room number, but thankfully had his schedule on hand to help. Near the end of the hall, room 303, was where he was headed. Approaching the entrance, Lucas opened the door and let himself inside, allowing the door to close itself behind him.

He did a double take when he saw Ninten sitting in the seat next to the one he himself had sat in yesterday.

_H-huh? This guy again? He's pretty persistent then, isn't he..._ Lucas blinked a few times, contemplating sitting at the table beside that one, which was still empty, but the more optimistic side of him insisted that there must've been some reason he sat there. He wouldn't have if he didn't, right? This is what Lucas used as his excuse to pull the chair out from its place under the desk and sit down.

Ninten was shocked out of what appeared to be a calm reverie by his motions, and he jerked his head up to look at him, flashing him a bright smile. "Lucas!" he exclaimed, gaze following him as he sat down. "Good to see you again."

Lucas couldn't help but smile back at him; it really was contagious, that good mood of his. "Hey, Ninten," he replied rather lamely, letting his bag's strap slide off his shoulder. He was nervous about sitting so close to him. Why? He honestly didn't know, but it probably had something to do with the fact that he wasn't used to people (read: classmates) being so nice to him. But he didn't want to be unsociable, so he tried to keep some kind of conversation going. "How are you?"

He laughed, putting Lucas off for a second. "Oh, I'm fine. A bit tired, though. How about you?"

Lucas nodded. "I'm alright."

Ninten smiled. "Good."

The bell rang at about that time. The two remained quiet for the teacher to take roll, something with which she managed to take her time. Ninten would look over at him through the side of his vision every so often, usually with an amused look on his face. It made Lucas feel self-conscious, but he didn't necessarily mind the attention. He didn't know how to respond, though, so he kept his gaze forward, paying as much attention to Ms. Oliveri as possible. He still managed to miss most of her oh-I-hope-you-all-had-a-great-day-yesterday speech, though.

"Alright then," she moved on, moving back to the chalkboard in the front of the room. "I think for our first assignment, it should be something fun. It's alright if you don't have any skills yet! That's what the class is for. As such, I want you all to draw yourselves, or what you imagine yourself to look like. It doesn't have to be perfect, and be creative! No stickfigures, people. There's paper on your tables. Get started, and have fun~!"

Ninten made the first move, grabbing a piece of copy paper from the center of the table. Lucas took his own sheet, disappointed in the assignment. He had expected something simpler, like 'draw a kitty' or something. He just sighed, grabbing a pencil from his bag. Draw what he imagined himself to look like? Fine.

He drew a circle to start with, adding a few tufts of hair where his trademark flip would be and two smaller circles for eyes. A rectangle would make a good enough torso, he supposed. Two smaller rectangle for legs, two more above for arms, and modified circles and ovals for hands and feet, respectively. He went back to add details like clothing and a mouth, and within ten minutes he was done, a crude but not completely horrible version of himself staring back up at him with a wiggly little smile. There. Cartoony Lucas. The blonde nodded, satisfied, and decided he'd take a peek at how Ninten was doing.

And promptly choked on his own spit.

There was an intricate sketch on the paper, with all sorts of guidelines and what not, and the thing was, the drawing itself was amazing. It looked like a cartoon, but in a style he'd never really seen before. The eyes didn't look normal and the features were slightly exaggerated, but it still looked alarmingly like Ninten. It even had details like his hat and the uniform he was wearing in it. The dark-haired boy took out a pen and began to trace the good lines, looking to be engrossed in his work.

Lucas let his jaw drop freely. "...w-wow," he breathed, completely impressed. "You can draw. _Really_ well."

Ninten laughed, continuing his tracing. "You think so? Thank you. I'm not sure if it looks like me much, though."

Lucas leaned forward, trying to meet the other boy's eyes. "Are you kidding me? That looks exactly like you!" he proclaimed, grabbing the colored pencils he kept in his bag for this class. "It's not realistic, but I love the style. So much better than whatever this is," he gestured to his own paper. "I have no drawing ability."

Ninten paused to look over at Lucas' paper and promptly laughed, making Lucas redden slightly. "It's not the worst thing I've ever seen," he assured, going back to his previous actions. "I used to draw like that too. Everyone does at one point."

"Yeah, and you were probably, like, five," Lucas muttered with a frown, coloring his self-portrait. "You just got much better."

He laughed again. "Oh, come on," he said playfully. "You've gotta be good at something, too."

Lucas shrugged. "Meh. Not particularly. I write okay, I guess, but that's about it."

Ninten glanced at him. "Really? You write? I'd love to read something," he offered, smiling.

That did nothing to help the color of Lucas' face. He continued to color himself, _hmm_ing. "Yeah, maybe sometime."

The two faded into silence for a while, Ninten busy inking and eventually pencil shading while Lucas colored. When Lucas finished, he couldn't help but look on with awe. How Ninten managed to make the shading look so nice was beyond him. Why was he even in this class, again? Lucas' eyes wandered to Ninten's concentrated face. The whole respect meter for him seemed to be growing by the second.

"So, you're a sophomore?" Ninten asked suddenly, snapping Lucas out of his momentary daze.

"Oh, uh, yeah." He cocked his head to the side a bit. "How'd you know?"

"Well, for starters, we're in the same grade level homeroom," he pointed out, making Lucas flush in embarrassment. "And you're carrying around a Chemistry textbook."

"Right. Well, yep. You're one too, I guess. That's cool." Lucas wanted to bang his head on the table, he sounded so lame, but he persevered. "I guess this is the only class we have together, huh?" As soon as the sentence left his mouth, he wanted to take it back. It sounded so weird, like he wanted to be in more classes with him! Well, he wouldn't _mind_ that at all, but...guh! Why did he feel so _weird_ around this guy?

Ninten didn't appear to find the sentence weird, though. "Yeah, guess so. Bummer, eh?" he laughed. Lucas looked at him with an almost surprised expression before he smiled. "I like all my classes, though, except my third period PE class. Always hated PE, hahah."

Lucas perked up a bit at that. "Me too. I'm no good at physical stuff. But did you say third period? I have PE third, too."

Ninten looked up from his shading. "Really? Huh, we must have different teachers, then. Brown?"

Lucas looked away. "Nah, Kocher."

"Ah. Well, there's the problem." He looked back at his paper. "So, what lunch do you have?"

"Fifth."

"Seriously?" Ninten looked up again, a big smile on his face. "So do I! I didn't see you there. Do you, ah..." he trailed off, smile diminishing into a boyish half smile that made Lucas' heart skip a beat. The blonde unconsciously gripped his shirt. Why in the world did he react like this to Ninten? He felt weird...but it was a _good_ kind of weird. "Do you mind if I, y'know, sit with you?"

Lucas answered almost immediately. "Not at all," he insisted, having no qualms with the idea. He briefly wondered what Fuel and Kumatora would say when they met him, but he was sure they'd get along just fine. If you got along with Lucas, you could get along with pretty much anyone.

Ninten's smile brightened tenfold. "Awesome! I'll be looking forward to it, then."

Lucas returned that smile, his own expression genuine. "Yeah."

Mrs. Oliveri swirled around, her long skirt flowing around her. "Now everyone, there's only five minutes left. If you're done, you can turn your work into this period's bin over on the left," she pointed at the correct spot. "And if not, you're welcome to take it home to work on."

Lucas went to stand up, but Ninten took his paper from his hands, standing up himself. "I'll turn it in for ya," he said with a wink, grinning before walking off.

Lucas giggled. Ninten reminded him of Claus in a way; he was charismatic, as well as nice and easy to get along with. Probably strong too, and definitely boyish, moreso than Lucas was. Yet another reason Lucas thought so highly of Ninten, even though they'd known each other for little more than a day. The thought of Claus brought him down a bit, but crying in class probably wouldn't help him out any.

When Ninten came back, he looked more serious, lacking the usual smile that resided on his face as he sat back down. "Hey, Lucas, one more question, if you don't mind."

Lucas blinked. "Sure. What is it?"

Ninten leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table in front of him. "Do you mind if I sit here from now on?"

Lucas didn't even try to hide his taken abackness. "Was that a serious question? Of course not. Of course you can sit here."

The smile came back to a surprisingly relieved-looking Ninten. "Good," he concluded, leaning back in his chair once more. He suddenly laughed. "I guess that makes us art buddies, huh?"

Lucas chuckled at how silly the term sounded. "Yeah, I guess so."

As soon as Lucas went to reach for his school bag, the bell rang, marking the end of the school day. The two boys stood up, pushing their chairs in as they walked toward the door, which was a mere few paces away due to their seats at the back of the class. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then?" Ninten said, planning to part ways with the shorter teen to stop at his locker.

For once Lucas grinned at him unprovoked, waving a casual hand. "Yup. See you!" he replied before turning back around, walking off to the bus ramp.

By the time he got there, Fuel and Kumatora were already waiting. "Hey, man!" Fuel called, throwing an arm around his neck. "Was art as fun as it was yesterday?"

Lucas couldn't help but smile just thinking about it. He tried and failed to hold in a laugh. "Yep, it was. I actually made a new friend. You guys remember Ninten, right?"

—**e**—**n**—**d**—**c**—**h**—**a**—**p**—**t**—**e**—**r** —

_**A/N: That's a bit of a sudden stop. My bad.**_

So, there's this poll on my profile (which, by the way, you're encouraged to vote in if you haven't already) that I put up asking which of my Mother fics you guys liked the most, and guess which fic won? That's right, this one! Four out of the five unique voters picked this one, which...was kind of a surprise, to be honest. But I can't argue with that, can I? And so, more priority will be placed on this fic. Though if I'm feeling a writers block (coughprotectorcough), I'm not gonna force myself to write, since that makes for bad chapters.

Which reminds me, it's been almost two months since the last update on this fic (which was 11.11.11 lolol). Sincerest apologies, dearies.

Enough of my rambling, though. Leave a review telling me whatcha liked, didn't like, things I can improve on, etc. etc. I didn't get any last chapter! -sadface- Did I do something wrong? Tell me what was wrong! If I don't know, I can't fix it!

Love yah. C:  



	7. Lunchtime

_**A/N: -waves white flag above head-**_

WARNINGS: Shirtless boys, possibly some language, homosexuality (though not necessarily in this particular chapter).

DISCLAIMER: NO, I DON'T OWN ANY OF THIS. GEEZ. /caps

—**s—t—a—r—t—c**—**h**—**a**—**p**—**t—e**—**r—**

Ninten gathered up the papers he'd managed to scatter everywhere whilst working problems in class. The bell had rung, and everyone had made it a point to shoot out of their seats and away from what most sophomores considered the worst part of the day; Algebra II. Ninten was one of the last ones out the door, textbook in hand as he strode down the hall and towards the stairs. The boy honestly didn't see what was so daunting about math, but that might've been because he had always been good at it. Oh well. At least he'd gotten that day's homework done in class.

After stopping by his locker, which was also on the second floor and conveniently located next to his destination, he proceeded down these stairs and walked past the long building that loomed ahead, towards the back of the school where a gymnasium was located. It was time for his own personal least favorite class; Physical Education.

He walked over to a certain number on the ground located in an entire row that lined the wall of the gym, the faded '17' on the ground, and stood on it. His Phys. Ed. teachers insisted they wait on those numbers until the bell rang, in order to identify tardy persons. Ninten thought it was a bit redundant, seeing as how they did the same exact thing seven minutes later to check off those who had dressed out, but what did he know? Kids wandered to their own numbers, one after another, until the tardy bell did end up ringing, and his teacher, Coach Brown, marked the two teens who were just arriving late.

"Alright then, class," she said, pocking her pen and shifting her clipboard to rest underneath her arm, "let's dress out. Those that don't have their uniforms get zeroes from here on out." Ignoring the scattered groans of a few teens here and there, she unlocked the boys' locker room and proceeded around the building to unlock the girls'. Ninten filed in with all the other boys from his class, surprised to see the room so full until he remembered there was more than one Phys. Ed. class per period.

The room itself was crowded enough as it was, without forty pubescent boys squashed together and trying to change. There were four walls, of course, lined with small lockers, and there were three separate wall-like structures that were also covered on both sides with lockers. Most of the boys had chosen lockers near the toilets and showers (the latter of which usually going unused by the Phys. Ed. classes due to sheer lack of time), so Ninten went the opposite route and picked a locker in the other direction entirely, in the back corner of the room. As expected, there were very few people back there, but Ninten was pleasantly surprised to see his new friend fiddling with his lock a few feet away from where his own locker was.

"Lucas!" Ninten greeted, jogging over to wave at him and locate his locker. The blonde boy flinched and looked back at him almost timidly before he smiled and waved back, body sagging like he was relieved.

"Oh, hi, Ninten," he replied, turning back to his lock. "I forgot you were in this period."

"Same here," Ninten agreed, remembering where his locker was upon closer inspection of their numbers. He noticed that Lucas' was only a couple lockers right of his. "But would you look at this? It's like we're on the same wavelength or something," he joked, suddenly remembering Lucas' alleged PSI.

Lucas laughed as he clicked his lock open and swung the metal door wide. "Yeah, it's quite a coincidence."

After opening the locker in front of him, Ninten proceeded to shrug out of his shirt and pants, taking off his belt in the process. The shirt he put on instead was gray and labelled 'Property of TCHS', as were the meshy blue shorts he was also forced to wear. He didn't mind all that much, though, seeing as how it was comfortable and kept his actual school clothes from getting all sweaty and stinky.

Going to put on his tennis shoes, Ninten glanced up at Lucas, whom seemed to be having trouble getting his uniform shirt off; he kept making little noises of discomfort. The dark-haired teen smiled as he tied his laces up. "Having trouble there?" he observed nonchalantly.

Since the black shirt covered Lucas' face, Ninten couldn't quite gauge his expression. "My hair's just stu—_ah__!_ Stuck on a button," he explained with a rather frustrated undertone, fingers fiddling with the accursed thing near the top of his head. Ninten could see it from where he kneeled on the floor.

Naturally the taller of the two stood back up, grinning. Walking right up to Lucas, he swatted the blonde's confused fingers out of the way before going ahead and gently pulling on the button, coaxing his hair around it with his other finger.

"Nhh!" the shorter boy hissed, hands cringing.

Ninten frowned. "Oh c'mon, that was the softest pull ever, man."

Ninten could almost see Lucas frown right back at him. "I'm kinda tender-headed, thanks," was the snark reply he got.

He rolled his eyes. "Right. Oh, hang on. I think I got it," Ninten claimed, and not three seconds later did the button pop right out of the blonde mess. The taller boy stepped back in triumph as Lucas hastily pulled the shirt off his face, sighing. He ran a hand through his hair where the button had been inadvertently held hostage. "Thanks," he muttered, reaching for his gray shirt.

Ninten grinned. "Not a problem!"

After Lucas managed to dress himself without any dangerous buttons to hinder his progress, they exited the room to go stand again on their numbers. Since Lucas wasn't in his class, Ninten waved goodbye as soon as they exited and wandered over to his own number 17 to await his teacher's instructions.

Coach Brown came by one more time to make sure everyone was dressed out before getting down to business. "Now then. Today we'll start by getting you all into shape. You've all seen our track, right? Four laps around it is one mile. I want to see how fast you can run that mile. Let's head out, and I'll explain the rest of it." She nodded her head before turning around and leading not only her class but the other two along with them to the track, around the gym and a little ways away from the driving range.

It didn't take very long for them to reach said track. The black asphalt was outlined in white, denoting different lanes and the starting lines for each of the different track events. It looked like a lot longer than a quarter of a mile to Ninten, but the boy had never really run on a track, so how would he have known for sure? There were some kids groaning and frowning at the inevitability before them. Ninten found a familiar blonde head a few meters away, and by the expression he was making, he wasn't really affected by the activity.

Coach Brown cleared her throat. "Alright. To make this as simple as possible, all the classes will be running together. You can do what you want, but any time past eighteen minutes is getting a zero for lack of effort. We recommend running the straights and walking the curves. We'll tell you your time when you pass the starting line for the fourth time. Be sure to remember it in case we don't have time to write it down, since we're more concerned with the stopwatch than anything. Any questions?"

Ninten raised a hand high in the air. "Yes, Coach. Do I have to run?"

Most of the other kids' heads swiveled around to look at him curiously. Brown gave him a funny look. "Why wouldn't you?"

Ninten shrugged his shoulders slightly. "My name's Ninten Podunk. You should have a note from my doctor somewhere, he said he'd sent it."

She flipped through her stack of papers briefly. "Podunk, Podunk...ah, here," she said, eyes moving back and forth as she scanned whatever document she'd located. "Oh. 'Severe Asthma'? Well, I guess you can just walk, then. Make sure it's a good pace, though, or I'm marking you down on participation."

Ninten could feel a couple jealous glares on him as he nodded. "Yes, ma'am!" he replied energetically.

As everyone lined up on the starting line, Ninten found himself beside Lucas, the latter making sure his shoes were tied sufficiently. "Good luck, man," Ninten grinned as he came back up with a slightly serious expression on his face.

The blonde didn't meet his eyes. "Thanks."

Lucas' demeanor confused Ninten a bit, but he didn't have much time to dwell on it. Coach Brown held a blue whistle to her lips. "Here we go. Three, two, one..."

_TWEEE_.

It wasn't much of an exaggeration if Ninten said he was nearly bowled over by the force of almost seventy-five kids setting off at a run at the same time. Coughing a bit as he began to walk, he rubbed his eyes a little before scanning the crowd of kids to gauge his friend's progress thus far. He was a little confused when Lucas wasn't there. He blinked, then shifted his gaze farther ahead.

Oh, _there_ was Lucas. Tied for first with a brunette who was a little taller than him. Ninten noted that his hair also stuck up in a few places, though it wasn't even close to matching Lucas' height.

But Ninten couldn't get over the sight of Lucas running—or sprinting, as it were. His feet looked to be barely touching the ground, he was going so fast. His arms pumped back and forth with feeling, like they were doing just as much as his thin (well, now that Ninten got a good look at them, they weren't really all that thin) legs were. And his face...Ninten hadn't thought such a determined expression could be found on Lucas' timid, calm face, but lo and behold, there it was. His thin lips were parted and his nostrils flared, presumably breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth. For all Ninten was worth, he could've been flying.

Ninten couldn't take his eyes off him.

The two boys had already gone one lap around and were halfway through with the second before Ninten realized he was going at a snail's pace. Finally managing to tear his gaze away, he implored his legs to move like he was actually giving some kind of effort. As he began power-walking once more, he risked another glance at Lucas. At three-fourths of the way done with the second lap, the two were still neck and neck, leading the class by at least twenty-five seconds. From here, Ninten could see that the brunette nearly mirrored Lucas expression, looking to be giving this his all. Not that Ninten could understand why. Didn't the coach just tell them it was just a kind of warmup?

The rest of their little race went the same way, neither of the two giving the other any leeway. But the part it really came down to, the part where they crossed the finish line, the brunette somehow managed to visibly pass it just half a second before the tip of Lucas' shoe came into contact with it. That being said, he didn't start to cheer or anything like that. He immediately doubled over, breathing hard and expression contorted in mild pain. Similarly, Lucas slowed down gradually before collapsing to the ground, chest heaving and skin shiny with sweat.

Ninten, who had just finished his second lap walking, followed up the drop of his jaw with a rush over to the blonde's side, making it there so fast their coach might have accused him of lying about his asthma. "Lucas!" he exclaimed upon reaching him, kneeling down in a split second. "Are you alright?"

The addressed boy laughed breathlessly before he replied. "Yeah, I'm...fine, just...out of shape...maybe not...the best of ideas," he chuckled, coughing rather hard afterwards. "Ugh...feel like I...might be sick..."

Ninten looked up when he felt a presence behind him. "I never said you had to, y'know," the brunette laughed, and his voice was shaky too. He had his hands held above his head, trying to increase the air flow to and from his lungs. "Let's go to the nurse. I feel really light-headed too."

Ninten watched as he hoisted Lucas up unceremoniously onto his shoulders and merely nodded at the coach before taking off at a slow walk back towards the school. Lucas merely mumbled a weak "Bye," as a farewell. The two must've been pretty good friends, then. This comforted Ninten somewhat, as he stood back up once more, making to finish up one more lap before they all headed back to the locker room. From what he'd heard and seen, he was afraid that the blonde had no friends at all.

Even so, Ninten figured it couldn't hurt him any to have another.

_-asdfjkl;-_

The bell that signaled the end of fourth period couldn't have been more welcome to the dark-haired teen, who had been mentally pacing back and forth in anticipation. Practically throwing his World History book back under his desk, he sprang up and was the first out the door and into the hallway, strolling none too slowly to its end and out into the main outdoor hallway. It was now lunch time. This was good for two reasons. One, it was...y'know, lunch period. Two, it was lunch period with Lucas.

Ninten was a little too excited.

What could he say? He was dying to learn more about this Lucas fella, particularly because he was intriguing. It was more than just a oh-you-apparently-have-PSI-too-maybe-we-can-help-each-other-out kinda deal. Even though he'd known the blonde for little more than a couple of days, he felt like the boy was worth having around, as a real friend. He was cute. He seemed honest enough. And he had a heart of gold as far as he could tell. The fact that being gay (or so Ninten assumed, as Nichol reused to refer to Lucas with any word other than 'fag') could have such a profound impact was mind-blowing. Lucas seemed like a person people couldn't help but like. Ninten definitely felt that way, anyway.

Sighing, he shook his head vigorously as he approached the front of the lunchroom, where he could see most everything going on with the cafeteria; surely from here he'd be able to spot Lucas. Though he wondered if he was being too forward...maybe Lucas wouldn't have even remembered their little conversation in art yesterday. If that was the case, Ninten might end up having to sit with Nichol once again, which wasn't all that terrible (his Lucas hatred aside), but.

Luckily enough for him, a hand snatched his arm and dragged him away without so much as a second's warning beforehand. Head jerking around in surprise, he found himself being towed along by the object of his thoughts, shooting him a small half-smile. "This way," he said quickly, like they were embarking on some top secret mission requiring the most careful of espionage.

Ninten's throat felt a bit dry. He cleared it and nodded, though Lucas couldn't have seen it unless he'd had eyes in the back of his head. "Right."

They weaved through the throng of students, away from the cafeteria and even the concrete tables adjacent to said cafeteria. Lucas seemed keen on getting from where they were to their final destination as quickly as possible, which Ninten couldn't really blame him for. But he did wonder where exactly Lucas planned on taking him; as far as he was aware, students couldn't go anywhere but the general area of the lunch room.

Then he found out 'general area' was an apt term; Lucas had led him behind the cafeteria, where not a soul was to be found. Well, other than two people sitting on the wall a little ways away, near the middle of the building. One was a tall female with short, messy pink hair and rather large breasts, and the other was a familiar-looking brunette...

"Woah, deja vu..." Ninten muttered under his breath as they approached the duo.

Lucas laughed. "Yeah, you've already met him," he confirmed as they got close enough to garner the two's attention. "That's Fuel. He's fast."

Fuel grinned. "That I am!" he agreed, holding a hand out to Ninten to shake. "Good to meetcha."

Ninten nodded his head, having bent down to return the gesture. "Likewise."

Lucas pointed to the girl. "And that's Kumatora," he supplied helpfully, smiling. "She's...fierce."

She gave him a dirty look. "What was that pause for, huh? Having trouble thinking up compliments?" she asked threateningly, but it was easy to tell she was joking. Her gaze swept over to Ninten and she merely nodded in recognition. "Whassup?"

Ninten smiled at her; while intimidating, she seemed like the type to stick by you through thick and thin. A good friend. "Hiya."

Lucas looked relieved, like he had been expecting more of a resistance or something. "This is Ninten," he explained finally. "He's in my art class, though I don't know why."

As the two went to sit down, Kumatora raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? The guy can't draw?"

"More like the opposite. He doesn't need any lessons, he's brilliant already!"

"Really?" She turned to Ninten directly. "Draw me."

Ninten chuckled. "Sorry, but I don't do portraits."

She frowned. "Why not?"

Fuel took a sip of his soda. "Because he probably gets bugged about it a lot. How would you feel if everyone wanted to exploit a talent of yours?"

Ninten beamed at him. "Exactly! Plus, what of people aren't satisfied with it? Then I'll have drawn it for nothing."

Fuel raised an arm into the air. "As long as you're proud of it, it doesn't even matter. Screw those who can't see talent!"

Ninten laughed. So far, he really liked this Fuel guy. "True, true."

Lucas inhaled sharply. "Oh, damn," he said, more to himself than anyone else. He turned to Ninten. "Did you want to go get something to eat from the line? I didn't even think about it, since we usually bring lunches."

Ninten shook his head. "Nah. I'm not really that hungry anyway."

Fuel held his brown paper bag out. "Oo can haff shome uff m' sanwish," he offered through his food. "'m not dat hungry eifer."

The dark-haired boy held up a hand. "I think I'll pass," he declined politely. He then looked at the chicken strips Kumatora was munching on. "A chicken strip, on the other hand..."

The pinkette closed up the box. "Uh-uh. No drawing, no chicken."

Ninten matched her stubborn expression. "Challenge accepted." He turned to Lucas, who was pulling a sandwich of his own out of his messenger bag. "Can I borrow your sketchbook, please?"

Lucas nodded toward said bag, which sat between them. "Sure. It's in the big pocket."

And thus the majority of the lunch period was spent with Ninten drawing a cartoony-ish (Ninten would refer to this style as manga) rendition of the pink-haired girl. Lucas and Fuel looked on in awe, and even Kumatora looked impressed, actually bothering to kind of sort of pose for him and do things like open her eyes more or sit up straight. Eventually Ninten began to ink it.

"See what I mean?" Lucas asked, shaking his head in near disbelief. "Brilliant."

"Dude, you realize how much money you could make if you made, like, cartoons or something?" Fuel exclaimed, grinning as he watched him finalize his lines. "I'd watch it every freakin' day!"

Ninten laughed. "Where I come from, everyone draws like this. It's not an uncommon thing."

"You do kinda have an accent," Fuel remarked, leaning back to sit again on his butt. "Where you from?"

Ninten didn't look up. "Japan."

Lucas made an 'o' shape with his mouth. "Oh, I see. Cool! You're bilingual then?"

Ninten laughed. "Yes."

Fuel clapped his hands together. "Say something Japanese!"

Ninten said something very fast, so fast the three couldn't catch anything but a few syllables.

"What?" Kumatora tilted her head to the side. "Say it slower."

"Boku wa Ninten desu," he repeated much slower this time, smiling despite himself.

"What does that mean?" Lucas asked.

"I heard 'Ninten,'" Fuel stated almost excitedly. "So that must mean 'My name's Ninten?'"

"Close. Means 'I am Ninten.' 'My name is Ninten' would be 'boku no namae wa Ninten desu.'"

"Aha. So, so, uh," Fuel began, "buh...boku wa...Fuel desu."

Ninten nodded at him, smiling. "Sou. Hajimemashite."

Fuel beamed. "What does that mean?"

"Yes. Nice to meet you."

"_Sweet_."

Ninten capped his pen and ripped the page right out of Lucas' sketchbook. Handing said book back to it's rightful owner, he held the drawing up to Kumatora. "Well?"

She inspected it thoroughly, like she was rather displeased with it, but she nodded. "Not bad."

Ninten swiped a piece of her chicken before she could back out of the deal, popping it into his mouth cheerily. "Thanks."

After a minute, Kumatora began to genuinely frown. "Hey, my nose here is pretty small." She looked at Ninten accusingly.

Ninten held up his hands. "Hey, I just did what I could with the source material."

She held a hand up to her nose. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked almost haughtily. Turning to the other two boys, she asked, "My nose isn't that small, is it?"

While Fuel and Ninten hunched forward to attempt to cover up their laughs, Lucas was left to reassure the pinkette. "Well, it isn't super small and deformed-looking or anything, y'know? It looks really nice on you!"

And the whole last minute before the bell rang was spent by two laughing even harder and Kumatora swatting at Lucas' face, demanding that he either learn how to properly compliment someone or shut the hell up next time.

—**e**—**n**—**d**—**c**—**h**—**a**—**p**—**t**—**e**—**r** —

_**A/N: BAM. Look at that! Lukeprism of all people, updating two different fics on the same day! Who's a winner? I'm a winner! :D**_

-multiple shots to the face-

But in all seriousness, I'm sorry about the delay. I'm a whore. I know. It's okay. I don't blame you for thinking it. Another Ninten chapter is coming up next. M'kay?

BY THE WAY, my knowledge of the Japanese language is minimal at best. If you can speak it better than I, please don't hesitate to correct my dumb ass. Trying to teach yourself a language is kinda...hard. But I'll never stop trying. TWO AND A HALF YEARS AND I'M STILL GOING. But I still don't get the difference between 'wa' and 'ga'... /cry

Leave a review if you want. I want you to. Because if you do I'll love you forever and ever and it'll just be a fun time all around. :D

See ya next tiiime. C:


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